


Serenity in Surrender

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Series: Higher Powers [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: 12 Step Programs, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Caning, Flogging, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Spanking, bad behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to "Step Two."  This is a look into Harvey's time with Jake, a few years before Mike enters the picture.  Harvey needs to quit drinking, or risk losing everything.  Jake is his AA sponsor -- and his Dom.  Let the clash of wills begin....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, because y'all asked for it. (Well, a couple of y'all's, anyway.)
> 
> Even though I tagged this as M/M, and as Harvey/Jake (or OMC), theirs is not really a sexual relationship. It becomes rather sexually charged at times, but that's probably as far as it will go. At the moment, I envision this as only two chapters long.
> 
> Not even a bit of Mike in this one (dang it).

“Zero for three, Specter,” sneered Harvey’s client.

“Calm down, Gene.” Harvey gathered up his copies of the documents and stuffed them in his briefcase. “These motions don’t mean a whole lot. Foreplay, that’s all. We’ve still got a strong case.”

“Yeah? Well, no one would know it watching you today. What the hell are we paying you for? I thought the whole point was to avoid a trial. My firm handpicked you based on your reputation, but you’re seriously slipping. After this little fiasco today, I have half a mind to go back and recommend that we start shopping around for a new law firm.” He turned on his heel and stomped out of the courtroom.

Harvey dropped back into his seat at the defendant’s table and leaned forward to hold his pounding head in his hands. God, he needed a drink. He’d made that promise to Jessica, though. Stark fear cut through him. What if he couldn’t keep his promise? And what if he did, but continued to rack up losses like he had today? He lifted his head and pressed his trembling hands to the tabletop. From the corner of his eye, he could see the attorney for the next case on the docket, hovering close by, probably impatient for him to vacate his chair.

Heaving a weary sigh, he stood up and grabbed his briefcase. When he turned around, he spotted him, lounging in the front row of the gallery. Jake Salvatori. Harvey pinched his lips together and met Jake’s placid gaze with an irate one of his own.

“Last time I checked,” Harvey hissed at him as he strode past, “stalking was a crime.”

Jake, predictably, stood and easily matched Harvey’s rapid steps, shadowing him out into the crowded hallway. “You’ve canceled on me three times. You won’t return my calls or texts. I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me.”

Harvey gave an annoyed huff. “Maybe I’m just not that into you.”

Jake grabbed his shoulder, turned, and just like that he had Harvey pinned against the wall. To a passerby, it probably looked like an attorney engaged in a private conversation with his client, but Jake’s fingers dug into his shoulder, creasing his expensive suit, his other hand rested on the wall next to Harvey’s face, and one thick thigh hemmed him in. If he wanted to break free, Harvey would have to put up a serious fight. Right at that moment, he didn’t rate his odds highly. He felt run down, worn thin, with the beginnings of a migraine that promised to be a doozy, and a low grade fear buzzing along his nerves that hadn’t left him since Jessica bailed him out of jail three weeks ago and laid out her ultimatum: _stop drinking, or you’re fired_.

“I don’t give a damn,” Jake growled softly, teeth gleaming white within his black, neatly trimmed beard, “whether or not you hate my guts. You made a commitment. You gonna step up and honor that? Or are you just another cowardly drunk poised on the brink of your spectacular flame out?” He shoved his face even closer to Harvey’s and tightened his fingers until they fucking hurt. “Huh? Decision time. Come with me now, or I’m done with you.”

Their gazes clashed for long seconds. As Harvey stared into Jake’s hazel eyes, and saw the hard determination there, he felt as if he had finally met his match. Here was someone who wouldn’t back down, someone he could never bend to his will. A tiny thrill of fear shot through him, but with it came the beginnings of hope. Could what Jake had proposed actually work? Harvey didn’t know, but at that moment he felt as if he had little to lose in giving it a try.

“I have to make a phone call,” he finally said. “I can’t just disappear in the middle of the day.”

Jake let him go and stepped back, and Harvey felt as if he could breathe again. “Then make it. I’ll wait for you at the elevators. You have five minutes.”

 

Harvey had expected more questions from Jessica, perhaps a full blown argument. He came up with the lie on the fly, telling her his sponsor had recommended he attend a retreat which would last through the weekend, and that he’d be back on Tuesday.

“A retreat?” She sounded skeptical, but not averse to the idea. “I didn’t realize AA did that.”

“It’s not directly affiliated with them.”

“You just now found out about it? And it requires you to drop everything at two o’clock on a Wednesday?”

“I…hadn’t made up my mind about it. I need this, though. I think it could put me over the top with my sobriety.”

She was quiet for a few seconds. “Fine. If you think this will help, I guess I’ll see you Tuesday morning.”

“Would you mind telling Donna? She’ll need to shuffle my appointments, maybe hand a couple of things off to you or Louis. I’d call her myself, but I really have to run.” That was only partly true. Donna knew him even better than Jessica, and would probably see right through his lie. Maybe he’d give her the full story one day, but right now he wasn’t sure how he’d explain his decision. It sounded crazy enough in his head, and he could only imagine how much more absurd it would sound spoken aloud.

They said their goodbyes, and then he hung up and went to find Jake.

“Phone,” Jake ordered, holding out his hand.

Harvey balked. “Is that necessary?”

“If I say it is.” He waited, ignoring the people that had to walk around them to get on the elevator. His hand stayed out, and his expression was one of infinite patience.

Finally, feeling almost as if he was losing a limb, Harvey handed his phone over to Jake, and watched as he turned it off and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

“Let’s go,” said Jake.

 

“Not bad,” said Harvey as he walked into Jake’s apartment, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Who decorated your place for you?”

“I did.”

“Huh. I take it you have a thing for nudes.” The walls of the living room and entryway were covered with paintings and drawings of nude figures.

"Yes, okay, let's get this over with. The artwork is mine. The pieces on the wall are for my own enjoyment. I make my living as a sculptor. My studio is across town."

"You must be doing pretty well to afford a place like this." He could tell Jake was growing impatient with him, but he couldn't seem to stop talking, to stop asking pointless questions. He walked across the living room to the window which overlooked green, leafy treetops. Harvey had picked his own place because of the view of the city. Had Jake been swayed by this more peaceful view? What did that say about the two of them?

Harvey turned around and watched Jake go into the kitchen to get two bottles of water from the refrigerator. He lobbed one at Harvey, who came close to fumbling it.

"Nervous?" asked Jake.

Harvey shrugged. He was, but he wasn't about to admit it. He opened his bottle, took a long swallow, and screwed the cap back on.

"So,” said Jake, “you've read and signed our contract. Is there anything we need to go over before we get started?" Jake lifted one thick black eyebrow and waited expectantly.

"Nope. Nothing I can think of."

"Good. Follow me."

He led the way to a small bedroom decorated in Nineteenth Century Orphan.

"Really?" said Harvey, voice dripping with scorn. "This is...grim."

"I'd like you to keep quiet until I tell you otherwise. Think you can manage that?"

Harvey gave a disgruntled sigh. "Is that really necessary?" He was asking that question a lot, he realized.

"If I say so."

Harvey pinched his lips together and rolled his eyes. "Shit, I haven't heard that one since I was about twelve. What is that, your go to line?"

"Harvey...."

He held up his hands and backed away to lean against the wall. The whole situation had him feeling combative, and wondering again why he had ever agreed to this.

Jake walked up to him, stopping inches away. He topped Harvey by a couple of inches, and his body was wide and thickly muscled. Intimidating seemed too tame a word to describe him, but Harvey decided that he'd go with that.

"I'll give you a few minutes," said Jake, "to show me that you can follow orders and remain quiet. If you can't, we'll go with Plan B." He waited, and when no sarcastic response burbled up out of Harvey's mouth, he continued. "Hand me your jacket and briefcase."

"My -- why?"

"I need to check for contraband."

And wasn't that just a punch to the gut. Already Jake didn't trust him. Unable to meet the other man's too knowing gaze, Harvey stripped off his suit jacket, handed it over, set his briefcase on the bed and worked the combination lock to open it. Then he stood back and watched Jake make quick work of checking his pockets and briefcase for evidence of his weakness. He found none, and gave a satisfied nod.

“Turn your pants pockets out.”

Harvey sighed, but did as he’d been asked. “What, no cavity search?” he sniped.

Jake gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Careful what you wish for. And you’d better watch that mouth of yours. Last warning. I'm going to leave you alone for a few minutes. While I'm gone, get undressed and put your clothes away. This is the last you'll see of those clothes until Tuesday morning."

Harvey just couldn't help himself. He gave an amused snort. "So I get to play your naked houseboy for the rest of the week? That's a sweet deal for you. Do you have any idea what my normal hourly rate is?"

"Don't know, and don't care. You aren't an attorney here, not for the next few days. You're my sub, and your job is to submit to my will. Nothing more, and nothing less."

"Funny, it's usually the other way around. I spend my days getting people to submit to my will."

"Nevertheless." Jake said the word gently, but his expression had grown hard. Harder. "When you've finished undressing, come out to the living room."

He left, shutting the door behind him. Harvey blew out a breath, realizing that he’d been holding the bottle of water so tightly he’d dented the plastic. He set it on the nightstand. His hands went to his tie. Annoyingly, they shook a little as he began undoing the knot. He wasn’t ashamed of his body. He put in regular hours in the gym to maintain his toned physique. His suit served as his armor, though, and as he stripped out of it and removed his shirt and tie and underwear, he began to feel a vulnerability that was unfamiliar and unsettling

Naked now, he considered the closed door. All he had to do was turn the handle and walk through it. For long minutes, he remained frozen in place. Once he presented himself to Jake, it would be as if everything had been stripped away, not just his clothes. His years of law school, and of grinding it out at the DA’s office, and clawing his way up through the ranks at Pearson Hardman – none of that would mean a goddamn thing to Jake Salvatori. To him, Harvey was just another weak soul who needed saving – or taming. Every instinct he possessed rebelled against that thought. As a consequence, opening the door and walking through it became one of the most difficult things he had done in his life.

In the end, it felt like a choice between finding the requisite courage, and becoming the flame out and failure that Jake had predicted. With jaw clenched tight, and the sick feeling that he was about to hand over something essential, something that made him who he was, he opened the door and went to present himself to his Dom.

 

“Kneel,” was the first thing Jake said to him. He stood near the window with his massive arms crossed over his chest.

Harvey blanched and came to a halt. “What?” he asked in disbelief.

“Did you not hear me? I said kneel.” To emphasize the point, Jake snapped his fingers and pointed at the ground.

“Hold on. I’m not a fucking dog.”

“No?”

Jake stalked slowly toward him, and it was all Harvey could do to stand his ground and not back away.

“Would you like to be my dog?” Jake asked softly.

Harvey laughed nervously. “Uh…no?”

“I could put a collar and leash on you, make you follow me around on your hands and knees, sit up and beg, and eat off the floor, from a dish.”

Crazily, Harvey’s dick reacted favorably to the suggestion. He glared at Jake, trying to pretend that neither of them could see Harvey’s swelling cock.

A low, filthy laugh from Jake. “My God, it’s always you Type A personalities that yearn to be taken down and humiliated. How does this sound? I could lock you in a dog crate, and leave you there until you piss and shit yourself.” He laid one hand against the side of Harvey’s head, making him jump. His fingers went into Harvey’s hair and he scratched his scalp lightly. “I could pet you when you’re a good boy.” He gave the back of Harvey’s head a light swat. “And punish you when you’re bad. I could even fit you out with ears and a tail.”

Harvey did step back then, holding up both hands in a warding gesture. “Okay. You’re a fucking lunatic, and this was a mistake.” He took a step towards his bedroom, intent on grabbing his clothes and getting the hell out of there.

“Stop.” Just one word, spoken with the utter self-assurance that he would be obeyed.

And – _goddamn it_ – Harvey stopped.

“We can explore all that another time,” said Jake. “Right now I require you to kneel.”

Harvey crossed his arms defensively. “No. Nope. I can’t do that. It’s not happening. Ask for something else, anything else.” He felt raw panic rising in his chest.

“I see.” Jake considered him, tilting his head to one side. “Interesting. A hard limit, then?”

“Yes,” said Harvey, grasping for the lifeline Jake had thrown him. “I think so. I’ll agree to anything else. Just not that.” He pointed at the side of his face. “In fact, take a swing at me if you want.”

“Oh, I’ll take plenty of swings at you. I’m not going to damage that pretty face, though. Hm. Anything else,” he continued in an amused, speculative tone. “That sounds enticingly vague and open-ended, and not at all something I’d expect from a seasoned negotiator such as yourself.”

Harvey knew he was right, but his own stubbornness had kicked in, and he wasn’t about to back down from his offer.

Finally, Jake shrugged. “All right, then. Follow me to the play room.”

 

Harvey’s eyes widened when Jake turned on the overhead lights and they entered the room. He scanned the room, taking in the various piece of furniture, and the rows of implements hung from the wall – whips and floggers and paddles, just to name a few. His interested perusal was interrupted by Jake’s commanding voice.

“Come here. Stand right there.”

The big man pointed at a spot in the middle of the floor which seemed to Harvey to be completely random. With an internal shrug, he went and stood there, quietly grateful that he hadn’t been strapped to the cross, or bent over the padded bench. He was less grateful when Jake approached him carrying something in his hand. He held it up so Harvey could see the black leather strap connected to a round rubber ball.

“Meet Plan B,” Jake said, with a look that was pure, evil mischief. “Since you can’t, or won’t, stop running your mouth, I’m going to stop it for you. Open wide.”

Harvey glared at him. His heart pounded with outrage. He had just agreed to anything Jake wanted to do, however. After a brief staring contest, he worked his jaw, and opened his mouth. Standing rigidly still, even as he seethed with indignation, he allowed Jake to force the rubber ball past his teeth and tighten the strap behind his head. As if to drive his point home, Jake dragged a full length mirror on a stand into position so that Harvey could stare balefully at his own reflection.

“Give me your hands,” Jake ordered.

Harvey frowned at himself in the mirror, and held out his hands. He watched Jake buckle a thick leather cuff around each one, and then reach over Harvey’s head. Harvey looked up, and only then noticed the heavy-duty D-ring directly above him, holding a pulley with a thick metal chain. Jake got hold of the end of the chain and pulled it down far enough to thread the hook on the end of it through each of the metal loops on Harvey’s cuffs.

When he began using the pulley to raise the chain – and Harvey’s wrists and arms – Harvey made a choked sound of protest behind the ball gag.

“I’m afraid I can’t understand you, Harvey,” said Jake genially. “If your intention is to safeword out of our very first scene together, I’d like you to raise your left foot off the ground. That will substitute for red. You may use your right foot to signify yellow, or pause. Nod if you understand.”

Harvey bit down on the gag, and then had to swallow the saliva that had collected in the back of his throat. By now he was practically hanging from his wrists, with arms stretched above him. His feet still touched the ground, but only just, make him feel unstable and off-balance. Jake had stepped away, and appeared to be waiting for an answer. Harvey was for damn sure not going to give him the satisfaction of tapping out now, so he nodded jerkily, trying to convey with just his eyes all of the wrath he was feeling.

“You’re certain you don’t want me to let you down? Kneeling might be more comfortable for you.”

Jaw tight and nostrils flaring, Harvey shook his head.

Jake smiled. “All right. If that’s what you want.” He moved the mirror, adjusting it so that Harvey would have to close his eyes to avoid looking at himself. “See that person there, in the mirror? How powerful is he right now? How much control does he have over his life?” Jake moved to stand behind Harvey. He reached around and hefted Harvey’s cock in his hand. It was already half-hard, and stood to attention at Jake’s touch. Jake’s other hand cupped Harvey’s balls, applying just enough pressure to make Harvey tense and squirm involuntarily. “I literally have your balls in the palm of my hand, don’t I?” As he murmured in Harvey’s ear, his warmth breath wafted against him, making him shiver.

“What shall I do to you?” Jake mused. “You’ve got that gorgeous, fuckable ass.” Using the tip of his tongue, he licked a thin stripe from Harvey’s ear, down to his collarbone. “I bet you’d love to be taken, to be held down and forced. You never allow that, do you? You always have to be in control, and it’s just so exhausting, isn’t it?”

When Jake pressed his groin to Harvey’s bottom, demonstrating how hard he was, Harvey whimpered in the back of his throat. His own cock was fully erect now, blood-dark and leaking.

Jake released him and stepped away. “Oh, but we agreed to no sex, didn’t we? That’s a shame. There’s not much I enjoy more in life than topping arrogant bastards like you, and showing you what needy little bitches you really are.”

Harvey’s eyes drifted shut at Jake’s words, and his chest heaved with his panting breaths.

“Sex is off the table. Lucky for me, making you suffer for my amusement will serve nearly as well to get me off. So.” He strolled over to the racks of implements and ran his hand along the first row. “Maybe just a taste today, to see what you’re made of.”

As Harvey watched, trying not to appear as anxious as he felt, Jake lifted a flogger off the wall, and then a leather paddle and a long piece of wood which Harvey guessed was a cane.

“I’ll begin with the flogger, to warm you up. Then I’m going to paddle your ass until it’s nice and red. I’ll finish with the cane, just a few strikes to give you a feel for it, so you’ll know what you can expect when you misbehave. Pay attention to the paddle as well. We’ll begin every morning with a nice, brisk spanking, to get the day started out on the right foot. Speaking of feet, stay balanced on yours. Your shoulders won’t thank you tomorrow if you let them take all your weight. It won’t be easy, but try to stay relaxed. Oh, and watch yourself in the mirror. Each time you close your eyes, I’ll add another cut with the cane.”

Feeling a little like a prime slab of beef hanging in the butcher’s window, Harvey swallowed around the gag and breathed out slowly through his nose. When Jake stepped behind him and the flogger thudded across his bottom, Harvey gave a grunt that was mostly surprise. He’d expected it to hurt more than it did. He kept his gaze on the mirror, feeling a grudging admiration for Jake’s powerful, flawless physique, and the effortless way he swung the flogger. As Harvey’s flesh heated up, so too did the intense concentration in Jake’s eyes. He looked like a lion sizing up its next meal, choosing where to bite first, and assessing which parts of Harvey’s body would be the sweetest and juiciest.

Jake focused his blows primarily on Harvey’s bottom and upper thighs, but also spent a fair amount of time on his shoulders and back. Harvey stayed quiet as long as he could, but finally soft grunts escaped him with each blow. In the mirror, his eyes seemed bleaker, and he became more prone to sway or twist after a particularly heavy hit. Eventually, Jake’s arm fell still, but instead of reaching for the paddle right away, he ran his hand over Harvey’s bottom, and met his gaze in the mirror, breaking out into a smile.

“I love the feel of a sub’s freshly heated bottom,” Jake explained. He set the flogger aside and used both hands to fondle and squeeze Harvey’s ass cheeks. “You like that too, don’t you?”

Harvey could hardly deny it. His cock bobbed heavily, smearing pre-come on his belly.

Jake walked around to his front and ran a finger up the underside of his cock. If Harvey had been able to, he would have hissed.

“Do you have sensitive nipples?” Jake asked conversationally. He pinched them both, slowly increasing the pressure. His head dipped lower, and he took one of them between his teeth, worrying it with wicked little bites. Harvey wanted to back away, but he had nowhere to go. He’d never encouraged nipple play from his partners, because he was in fact quite sensitive. Jake lifted up and moved to the other side, scraping the raised nub with his teeth while pinching the other side. Harvey heard himself give a high-pitched whine, clearly audible through the gag.

Jake licked first one nipple, then the other, and the pulled his head away even as he continued to pinch, ratcheting the pressure up and up. Harvey felt himself break out in a sweat. In the mirror, he saw a writhing man impossibly turned on by Jake’s nipple torture. It ended seconds later with Jake letting him go and straightening up.

“Oh, yes,” he said, “nice and sensitive. I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He lifted the paddle and moved back behind Harvey. “I normally prefer to have my subs bending over for a good paddling, but I believe I’ll enjoy this just as much.” He plastered himself against Harvey’s back, chin digging into his shoulder, and grinning into the mirror as he held the paddle up to Harvey’s face. “When we do this in the morning, I’ll have you kiss it first.” He ran the paddle down the side of Harvey’s neck and arm. “Don’t. Move.”

With that piece of advice, he put some space between them. Seconds later, the paddle struck Harvey’s ass so hard it knocked him forward. He had to go up on his tiptoes to keep his balance.

“Come on, Harvey, you can do better than that. That was just a love tap.”

Harvey gave an angry grunt. The paddle struck again, and this time he managed to remain in place. The concentration required to stay more or less stationary had him tense and trembling, which in turn made the hits hurt that much more. He kept quiet for as long as he could, staring at the reflection of his own dark eyes, obscenely stretched mouth, taut, straining arms, and engorged cock. Every so often he flicked his gaze up to watch Jake working him over. The big man appeared totally focused on his task, eyes tracking every minute movement of Harvey’s body, and strong arm swinging away, backhand and forehand and backhand and forehand. The only evidence of the effort he was expending was his t-shirt soaked through with sweat.

Eventually, Harvey managed to unclench his muscles, and let his lax body sway in time to Jake’s strokes. The pain built, slowly but surely. Sweat ran in runnels down Harvey’s face, and chest, and back. His gag blocked moans which buzzed and vibrated inside his head, making his teeth ache.

He slipped up once and closed his eyes. Instead of berating him, Jake paused and said in a voice that was almost kind, “Open your eyes, Harvey. Watch yourself. See how beautifully you suffer.”

Harvey couldn’t see anything beautiful in it. To his eyes, the mirror held only a once powerful man, beaten and brought low, wordlessly pleading for it to be over.

As Jake resumed the paddling, he began to speak, voice droning in Harvey’s ear, low and hypnotic. “You will submit to me, Harvey. Soon enough, you’ll be kneeling at my feet, and begging to kiss my boots. You don’t believe me now, but I don’t doubt it for a second. It’s what you want, more than you know, to give up your power…to have someone other than you shoulder the burden for a while. I’ll help you Harvey. I’ll give you the peace you need, the peace you never found in a bottle, or in your profession, or in any of the parade of warm, willing bodies that have occupied your bed. Give it up. Break for me, just a little.”

And Harvey wanted to do just that. The weariness that had dogged him for so long felt like poison running through his veins. His vision blurred from the moisture in his eyes. Pride would not let him cross that line though. He growled in the back of his throat, marshaling anger to strengthen his defenses.

Jake didn’t let up, swinging away, over and over, until finally Harvey felt his resolve wavering...slipping. Before it crumbled completely, though, Jake stopped, setting the paddle aside and taking a long drink of water. Harvey sagged against the chain, letting it take his weight for a few seconds, and flexing his arms. Having no desire to witness his own weakness, he changed his focus from himself to Jake, who had lifted the cane, testing its flexibility and examining it for flaws. Apparently satisfied, he stepped behind Harvey once more and met his eyes in the mirror.

“Three cuts to familiarize you with its feel. One extra because you failed to keep your eyes open. This is going to hurt.”

Harvey transferred his weight back to the balls of his feet. In the mirror, Jake pulled his arm back, and then moved it almost too fast for Harvey to track. It sliced across his abused bottom like a flash of heat lightning. There was a moment, a split second of silence and disbelief, and then the searing pain tore through him, causing him to bite down on the gag.

_Fuck, it hurt._

He nearly shut his eyes again, but caught himself in time. He saw Jake waiting, watching his reactions with almost clinical interest. Then Jake smiled and lifted the cane. It cracked down again, hitting close to the first spot. Harvey screamed into the gag. The pain was unbelievable. Involuntary tears pooled in his eyes. Jake went out of focus, but Harvey watched the blurry shape of him raise the cane once more. He flinched, anticipating, and the cane whipped across his ass. He groaned, feeling the vibration of it in his chest and belly. The tears overflowed his lids, tracking down his cheeks and dripping onto his neck.

That was three. One more to go. He blinked and blinked until his vision cleared. Jake seemed to be waiting for him, and gave Harvey a short nod.

“Last one. Don’t look at me. Watch yourself in the mirror. Pay close attention to the look in your eyes when the pain finds you.”

Stubbornness kept Harvey’s eyes locked with Jake’s, and his pounding heart counted out the seconds while Jake’s patient expression never altered. Finally, Harvey blinked slowly and shifted his gaze to the pale and beaten man hanging from the ceiling. His eyes were huge, desolate pools, nearly black in his chalk-white face. He breathed in and out through his nose, searching for calm.

His peripheral vision caught Jake’s movement, and so he expected the final strike when it hit. Harvey flinched, and a shudder ran through him at what he saw in his own eyes.   A flash of suffering, followed by anguish and shame and self-loathing. He shook his head minutely, wanting to deny what he’d seen. Not caring if Jake hit him ten, twenty, or a hundred more times, he shut his eyes to block out his reflection.

The next thing he felt was the release of tension in his shoulders as Jake lowered the chain. A sound escaped Harvey which might have been gratitude, or it might have been disappointment. The cuffs came off his wrists. Nothing stopped him from fleeing, nothing except his sudden conviction that he belonged here, and he deserved every single hit that Jake gave him.

A bottle of water was pressed into his hand, and Harvey drank thirstily. Then Jake grasped his arm and led him to the wall. “Lean if you need to, to stay upright.”

Harvey crossed his arms over his chest and remained as he was, despite the shaking in his legs, and the hot, throbbing burn in his ass. He’d shown enough weakness and he’d be damned if he showed any more.

Seemingly unconcerned with Harvey’s pointless display of stoicism, Jake rummaged in a drawer before lifting a tube and showing it to Harvey.   “I hope you’ll relax that stiff neck of yours long enough to let me apply some of this lotion to your backside. It will help. I promise.”

Harvey regarded him, and then nodded once and turned to face the wall. Jake moved up behind him and a moment later Harvey felt a broad hand stroke down his bottom, bringing coolness to his hot skin. The pain lessened noticeably, and Harvey guessed the lotion contained an analgesic of some kind. Then both hands were working over him at once. He widened his stance slightly and leaned his forehead against the wall, enjoying the contact, but hating that he enjoyed it. His dick, which had grown soft during the worst of the beating, began to swell with interest once more.

Jake finished, put the tube aside, and wiped his hands on a towel. Harvey had turned to watch him, and now Jake stepped closer to him and spoke again. “I’m going to remove the gag. Please keep in mind that if you start running your mouth again, it goes right back in. Do you understand me?”

After only a brief pause, Harvey nodded.

“That’s my good boy.”

Harvey’s eyes drifted shut for half a second as a spike of arousal shot through him.

Jake smiled, and leaned in close while he worked the buckle on the strap behind Harvey’s head. “Say ‘ah’.”

Harvey opened his mouth as far as he was able, and Jake maneuvered the gag out of his mouth, but stayed where he was, one hand braced against the wall, face close enough to Harvey’s that he could have kissed him, legs and thighs and torso hemming him in. “This is only the beginning,” Jake murmured, his gaze traveling to Harvey’s mouth. “Please believe me when I tell you, it’s easier when you bend. I’ll give you another chance now. Kneel and bow your head to your Dom.”

Harvey started to form the word, and then remembered himself. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. _No. Definitely, absolutely, categorically no._

Jake stepped back. “Not today, then. But you will. I look forward to that moment.” He smiled gently, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos on chapter 1. I've changed this from 2 chapters to open-ended. I still don't expect it to be terribly long, but evidently I have issues with brevity.

Harvey groaned, rolled onto his side, and squeezed his eyes tight to block out the sudden light that seared into his eyelids. He'd spent the night on the floor in Jake’s bedroom, tossing restlessly on a glorified dog bed, and his entire body ached.

"Rise and shine, campers," said Jake, far too cheerily for whatever ungodly hour it was. "Spanking in the play room in five minutes."

Harvey considered a scathing response, but he wasn't entirely clear on the current situation with regards to speaking aloud, so he played it safe and settled for a sub-verbal grunt. He cracked one eye open to watch Jake throw back the bedcovers, stand and stretch, putting his disgustingly magnificent body on display. He wore black sleep pants, and that was all.

Another heartfelt groan escaped Harvey as he heaved himself upright and onto his feet, moving clumsily in comparison to Jake. He may even have swayed briefly, but immediately took rigid control of himself.

“Use the bathroom and then go wait for me in the play room,” ordered Jake.

Glad enough for the opportunity to put some distance between them, if only temporarily, Harvey did as he’d been told. _Play room,_ he thought with dark humor. Might as well call it what it really was – Jake’s torture chamber.

After he’d relieved himself, and washed his hands, and sluiced cold water over his face, he stood with his hands braced on either side of the sink, studying his reflection in the mirror. Already, he looked different than the Harvey Specter who had left the courtroom yesterday. Faint traces of a beard shadowed his lower face and neck, lending him what he decided was a scruffy, disreputable look. He was accustomed to shaving every morning without fail, weekend or weekday. If Jake didn’t allow it, by Tuesday Harvey would be halfway to looking like his bearded Dom.

Likewise, his normally hyper-styled and gelled hair lay in disarray, falling messily across his forehead and bending up at weird and unexpected angles in the back where he had slept on it. He ran more water over his hands and thrust his fingers through his hair, doing the best he could to bring it under control. Not satisfied, but resigned to an unkempt appearance for the next few days, he exited the bathroom and walked down the hall to the play room.

He stood near the door, waiting for Jake, concentrating on staying still and not fidgeting. Involuntarily, his eyes sought out the pulley and chain attached to the ceiling, and he shivered at the memory of last night. Then his gaze drifted to the spanking bench and he swallowed nervously. What if Jake ordered him to kneel on it this morning? He tested the idea in his mind. Would that really be so bad? His pulse accelerated just thinking about it. Yes, he concluded, it would be exactly that bad.

He’d made a promise to himself years earlier, that he would never back down from a fight, would never surrender to his foe, no matter how uneven the odds appeared to be. He’d spent hours in the ring, learning to box, to keep his guard up and attack. And he’d honed his skills in the legal arena – the classroom, and the courtroom, and the boardroom. He was a goddamned winner, and he lived his life without compromise or apology.

He gave a low, bitter laugh. _What a complete crock of shit._ He’d lost the fight years ago to the most ridiculous, insidious enemy of them all. He’d bent his knee and worshiped at the altar of aged, malted barley, and would do it again in a heartbeat if….

He recoiled from finishing that sentence. _Nothing,_ he lectured himself sternly, _nothing is worth obliterating the life you’ve built for yourself._

Jake walked in behind him and clapped a hand on Harvey’s shoulder. “Any change of heart you’d care to share with the class this morning?”

Harvey didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. He wavered, just for a moment, allowed himself to imagine walking to the spanking bench and settling his knees on the provided supports, draping his torso over the padded leather, and sinking into it. He experienced a twinge in his gut so painful he wondered if he’d developed an ulcer. With a grimace tightening his face, he shook his head decisively.

Jake made no comment, simply walked past Harvey to the bench, moved the knee supports down and out of the way, and changed the angle of the center portion. “No kneeling, no line, no waiting. Step right up.”

Suppressing the instinct to glower, Harvey approached the bench and leaned his chest over the top. The insanity of what he’d embarked on with Jake hit him hard at that moment, almost making him dizzy. He tried to remind himself why he was doing this, and came up blank. It had seemed like a last resort, a little bit desperate, sure, but just the sort of unorthodox solution he spent his professional life manufacturing for his clients. He forced himself to remember the suffocating sense of despair in the courtroom yesterday, the feeling that everything was crumbling and he was teetering on the verge of failure.

“Where’d you go Harvey?” asked Jake gently. “Are you overthinking again?”

Harvey grunted, and then jumped in surprise when Jake leaned in to buckle leather straps around his wrists, securing him to the supports where he'd rested his forearms.

“For your benefit,” said Jake. “Now, if I’m reading you correctly, right about now you’re questioning everything about our arrangement, and wondering what the point of it is. Is that about right? You have my permission to speak.”

Harvey strove to pull his disjointed thoughts together. “Maybe. I think I understand what you’re getting out of it – you get off on my pain, don’t you?”

Jake shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “True. But that's about me, not you. That’s not why you’re here. If my only objective was to torment a squirmy little sub, I could easily find dozens of them better suited to that sort of fun than you are.”

He lifted the paddle from the wall and moved to stand in front of Harvey. “You’ve committed to a program, and I’ve committed to shepherd you through that program. In order to get anywhere with this, to make any sort of meaningful progress, we need to get you past step three. That means you need to place your will in my hands and let me take charge of you for the duration of our time together. You can go right on fighting me, but that’s going to be exhausting for both of us. I don't want that, and something tells me you don't either. Plus, you’ll lose in the end.” He placed the paddle in front of Harvey’s mouth. “Kiss it, and thank me.”

Harvey’s stomach lurched, but he allowed the paddle to be pressed to his lips, not participating, but not resisting it. Then he had to clear his throat to force the words out. “Thank you.”

“Sir.”

Harvey’s jaw tightened. “Thank you, sir.”

“Very pretty.” Jake ran his hand over the top of Harvey’s head, mussing the hair that Harvey had tried to tame minutes earlier.

_Probably on purpose,_ he groused to himself.

Jake walked behind Harvey and placed a hand on his lower back. “Morning discipline,” he stated, as if preparing for an extended lecture. “What is the purpose of this, exactly? Any ideas?”

“Just another way to take me down a peg, I’d guess.”

“I don’t want to take you down, Harvey. Not in the way you’re thinking.” He stroked Harvey’s back and flanks in a way that was far too enjoyable for Harvey’s peace of mind. “Try again. Why are we doing this?”

“To…start the day out on the right foot?”

“Close. Not bad. But here is the answer I want to hear from now on when I ask that question: because my Dom wills it.”

Ice water seemed to wash through Harvey’s veins at that, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

After the silence had stretched for nearly a minute, Jake spoke again, voice as patient as ever. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because….” Harvey shuddered, but forced out the words which Jake demanded of him. “Because my Dom wills it.” It wasn't as painful to say as he'd thought it would be.

“Thank you,” Jake murmured. “Nicely done. I know that wasn't easy for you." He palmed Harvey's ass, sizing up his target. "Twenty swats. Please count them out for me.”

If Harvey had expected Jake to pull his punches this morning, he was disappointed. The paddle fell sharp and hard, alternating sides and traveling up and down Harvey’s ass, sometimes biting wickedly at his upper thighs. Still tender from the night before, Harvey winced and gasped, but rapped out the count as clearly as if he were responding to the demands of a drill sergeant.

When he was finished, Jake remained behind him, out of his line of sight. Harvey could hear his harsh breathing, and was surprised to realize that Jake had not been as unaffected by the spanking as he’d assumed. However, when Jake moved back in front of Harvey, he appeared as glacially calm as ever. He offered the paddle once more, Harvey kissed it, and without having to be prompted, he thanked Jake for his discipline. Jake set the paddle on a low table near the wall.

“Clean that before you leave the room. And wipe down the bench. There’s a spray bottle and towels in that cabinet.” He pointed at one of the closed doors on the wall. “While I have you here, let’s review how the day is going to go. I’ll allow you a quick shower. After that, fix us some breakfast. I left you a list on the kitchen counter of what foods I prefer. I need to spend some time at my studio today, so we’ll head over there after breakfast. I’ve placed some clothes in your room that you can wear when we go out. We’ll come back here for lunch, and then I think we’ll talk for a while. Do you have any questions about what I’ve just said?”

Too tired to argue or object, Harvey nodded mutely, and waited passively for Jake to remove the restraints.

 

******

 

Jake’s studio looked about as Harvey had imagined it might – huge and airy, with a high ceiling, at once highly functional and aggressively organized. Rows of neatly labeled shelves holding supplies flanked the doorway. Fully one quarter of the room was taken up with bronze figures, most but not all of which were concealed beneath stained drop cloths. Not surprisingly, all the ones Harvey could see were nudes, some men, some women, each one rendered in exquisite detail.

“Trouble unloading your inventory? Business must be slow.” Harvey knew he was being a dick, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. His borrowed sweat pants hung off his hips, threatening to slide off entirely. Jake hadn’t allowed him any underwear.

Jake only laughed. “Not at all. Probably two-thirds of what you see there are commissioned pieces, bought and paid for. Next week I’ll have a crew in here to help me get them ready to ship to San Diego. Then I’ll have to head out there myself to supervise the installation.”

“Oh? So I’ll be deprived of your company? Gee, that's a damn shame.” Heavy sarcasm laced Harvey’s voice.

With apparent casualness, Jake stepped right into his space and ran his hand over Harvey’s head and then grabbed his hair in a brutal grip, tugging his head back. Harvey had to bite down hard on the inside of one cheek to keep from fighting him. God, he wanted to, though. Indignation bubbled up inside of him and he wrestled it down. His breath came in harsh, uneven gasps which didn't provide sufficient oxygen.

“You really want to provoke me, Harvard boy?” Jake increased the pressure, and Harvey had to clench his jaw to keep from crying out. “Don't worry. I won’t be gone that long. And plenty can be accomplished long distance. I assume you’re familiar with Skype?” He pulled harder, until Harvey was practically staring straight up at the exposed ducts and pipes crisscrossing the ceiling. “Although, we could arrange to have you come with me, if you think you’d miss me too much. I have a nice roomy travel crate. A little food and water, and I'm certain you'd be comfortable enough in the cargo hold.”

Harvey’s eyes watered at the sharp pain in his scalp. His hands curled into fists, and time seemed to slow to a crawl as he pictured one of those fists cutting through thick air and hitting Jake in his jaw. "I'd like to see you try," he growled.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

"I said," Harvey replied clearly, with the absolute certainty that he was making a huge mistake, "go fuck yourself."

With no more effort than it would have taken to pick up a kitten by the scruff of its neck, Jake stepped behind Harvey, wrapped an arm around his throat and moved him bodily across the room until his belly butted up against the edge of the drafting table. Jake forced him down onto the slant of the table, and Harvey found his face mashed up against a smudged sketch pad. Jakes massive body pressed against him, holding him in place.

"That wasn't very nice," Jake stated, infuriatingly calm. "I believe you owe me an apology."

"I don't owe you shit." It wasn't easy getting the words out with Jake pressing on his windpipe.

"You were disrespectful. Tell me you're sorry."

"Fuck. You."

Jake sighed, as if hugely disappointed. "I’ve told you this is a waste of energy, Harvey. Yours and mine." In a lightning fast move, he yanked Harvey's sweats down and smacked his tender ass five times in quick succession. "One more chance. Apologize."

Humiliated at the treatment, Harvey bucked up and contorted his body, trying to break free. He may as well have been trying to escape from a steroidal gorilla. Jake tightened his hold until Harvey's vision began to swim. Harvey threw an elbow backwards and felt it connect, but Jake didn't so much as flinch.

"If you behave like a brat," Jake admonished, "you'll be treated like one." With that, he proceeded to spank Harvey in earnest, bringing his palm down in hard, stinging blows.

Harvey cursed and twisted and threatened Jake with all the things he intended to do to him when he got loose. The absurdity of the situation and his position had just begun to sink in through his rage, when he heard a new voice, behind Jake.

"Should I wait outside?" The voice was male, and sounded amused, rather than shocked.

"Ah, Ronnie. Punctual as always. No, you may as well stay. Harvey here was just about to apologize for his hurtful words." His arm kept moving, landing hit after hit, fleshy smacks echoing through the big space.

Harvey felt an unaccustomed blush color his face and chest. _This is not happening,_ he tried to tell himself, but it soon became clear that denial was not a strategy that was going to work here. For the sake of his dignity -- what remained of it -- he stopped struggling. The thought of a stranger witnessing his debasement had him nauseous and sweating. This had to stop _now,_ and he knew of only one way to accomplish that.

"I'm sorry," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"What was that?" Jake, the bastard, sounded as if he was having the time of his life.

"I said, I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry I disrespected you."

Immediately, the pressure around his throat eased, and the blows stopped. Jake's body, however, remained pressed against him, holding him in place. "Apology accepted," he said. "But I'm afraid your punishment isn't over."

Harvey closed his eyes. "Could we not...not here. Please?"

"Oh. You're concerned about Ronnie? Don't be. He's seen it all. I've even blistered his fine ass a few times. Isn't that right, Ronnie?"

"Affirmative, sir. Not as often as I'd like, but what are you gonna do? I am here to work."

Jake moved away, putting a few inches between them, but when Harvey would have straightened, and pulled his pants up, Jake stopped him with a hand on his back. "Not yet. Stay just like that for a few minutes. It's a nice view. Don't you agree, Ronnie? You can inspire us while we get set up."

"He does have a cute tushy," Ronnie agreed.

Harvey rested his head on his arms and fantasized revenge scenarios. Once again he was considering making a break for it, and questioning his own sanity.   And once again, the cold fear trapped in his chest stopped him -- not fear of Jake, but of his own failure. He stayed where he was and breathed slowly in and out, trying to shed the anger.

When he'd achieved a manageable level of calm, he began to consider -- for the first time, to really consider -- the goal in all of this, which, of course, was to hang onto his sobriety, and by extension, the life he valued. If he wanted to get there following the twelve steps -- as he'd promised Jessica -- then he needed to begin by submitting to something greater than himself. He'd given up long ago both believing and trusting in some invisible deity to rescue him from himself, but as immovable objects went, he doubted he could do better than Jake.

So, why was he fighting so hard against something which he had agreed to, and which he admitted might be his best chance of succeeding?

_Because you're a stubborn fool._ His lips quirked at this self-assessment. Maybe Jake knew what Harvey needed now better than he did. As a starting point he needed to admit he was human and therefore fallible. If that meant letting Jake dominate him and even humiliate him in front of strangers, then so be it. He could this.

His resistance to Jake's control didn't crumble, not completely, but something eased inside of him. Slowly, his anger dissipated, thinning into transparent wisps that seemed to drift to the ceiling and vanish. When it was gone he was left with just himself, leaning over a slanted table with his ass wagging in the air, trying not to smile at the absurdity of it all. The world was still turning. He was still Harvey.

More or less.

 

Once Jake allowed Harvey to stand up, and to cover himself again, it turned out to be a halfway enjoyable morning. Ronnie, as it turned out, was an art student, and Jake’s part time assistant. He was there today to help Jake with some of his creations. Jake explained briefly and succinctly that he employed lost wax casting, which meant that after sketching a subject to his satisfaction, he created a 3-D model in wax, and then from that made first a rubber mold, followed by another hollow wax piece from the mold, then a ceramic mold, from which the final, bronze piece was cast. It sounded complicated and time consuming to Harvey, and he wasn’t sure he completely understood the process. Today, they were making the ceramic shell molds for several pieces which, together, would constitute one bronze figure.

Harvey stood out of the way, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and watched Ronnie use an industrial mixer, which looked something like a shrunken down cement mixer, to prepare what Jake referred to as the “ceramic slurry” which would create the mold. They worked well as a team, moving through each step with the sureness and coordination that spoke of many hours put in together.

Harvey found himself wondering about Ronnie, a wiry, intense young man with pretty green eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass. Had he been Jake’s sub at some point? Was he still? Maybe Jake treated everyone in his life the same way, getting his point across with the flat of his hand.

It amused Harvey to imagine various acquaintances and colleagues subjected to a taste of Jake. Louis could certainly benefit from a good, hard spanking. He’d probably enjoy it, too. Most everyone in the associate pool needed regular, brisk discipline. He fantasized proposing to Jessica that Jake be hired as a consultant, to visit the firm once a week to take care of any wayward employees. He snickered, thinking about Jake and Jessica plotting together. Now that he thought about it, they had a lot in common.

“Something here strike you as funny?” asked Jake, drying his hands with rough paper towels.

“What? No. Sorry, sir.”

“Hm. I suppose I’d rather see you laughing than sulking. The molds are done. They need to dry overnight, and then we’ll fire them in the kiln. That’s it for today, though.”

Ronnie was occupied in cleaning up and returning supplies and equipment to their labeled shelves. He gave Jake a hopeful look over his shoulder. “Should I…I’d be happy to stick around for a while.”

“It’s part of our arrangement,” Jake explained to Harvey. “In addition to his wages, Ronnie has requested training as a sub, which I’m more than happy to provide." He narrowed his eyes, appearing to think it over. "Would you like to come back to my place with us, Ronnie? We can spend some time in the play room while Harvey prepares lunch."

Ronnie seemed to approve of the idea. His eyes shone with excitement. "Yes, sir. Absolutely." His eyes darted to Harvey. "You don't mind do you?"

Harvey doubted that what he thought mattered one way or the other. Ronnie seemed like a sweet kid, though, so Harvey mustered up what he hope passed for graciousness, and smiled at the boy. "Of course not. The more the merrier."

 

Jake had assured him yesterday that the play room was thoroughly sound-proofed. As Harvey chopped and measured, and in between bouts with the blender and the juicer, he could confirm that was the case. Of course, it was possible that Jake wasn't tormenting Ronnie the way he'd tormented him, but Harvey thought he'd started to get to know the big man, and had to assume that behind the closed door, Ronnie was screaming himself hoarse.

When they emerged after nearly an hour and a half, Jake pulled Ronnie into the bathroom and moments later Harvey heard the shower running. He divided the revolting (he predicted) power shakes he'd been refrigerating into three glasses, tossed the salad, and prepared three plates. By the time everything was set out, Jake and Ronnie reappeared, fully dressed, hair damp, and grinning. In Jake's case, the grin was smug and satisfied, while Ronnie's grin was simply...satisfied.

Harvey hid his own smile as the other two men took seats at the table, and he sat on the floor. There was so much afterglow on Ronnie's face that he looked close to radioactive. It seemed they had a different arrangement than Harvey and Jake. Harvey experienced a sudden, unexpected curiosity to see the two of them together. He didn't doubt it would be hot. Part of the pull stemmed from the fact that Ronnie was exactly the type that Harvey looked for when he was in the mood for male company. No doubt about it -- he was a cute kid.

The shake wasn't awful, which was a surprise. Harvey was content to quietly consume his meal while Jake and Ronnie talked art. He should have been bored. He hadn't spent so many hours away from his phone and computer for...well, he couldn't remember how long it had been. The separation had caused him no small amount of anxiety, to begin with. Now, though, the knowledge that he was cut off from work and all the worries and bullshit that came with it, started to feel oddly freeing. _Is this what people who took vacations felt like?_ he wondered.

"Are you an artist, too, Harvey?" asked Ronnie, interrupting Harvey's musings.

He chuckled. "Not even close. I've represented a few, but that's it."

The boy's eye's widened. "You're an agent?"

"Nope." He felt reluctant to admit his profession, but only because he wanted to keep total separation between his life at Pearson Hardman, and... _this._ Almost immediately on the heels of that thought, he realized that he didn't give a shit. He'd never apologized for his decisions before, and he wasn't about to start now. "I'm an attorney."

"Not just _an_ attorney," interjected Jake, eyes sparking with mischief, "but _the_ attorney."

"Oh," was Ronnie's only comment.

He was probably either thinking how much he hated attorneys (one got a lot of that), or struggling to disguise his surprise at finding out that the naked man eating his meal on the floor like a dog was a high-powered Manhattan attorney. It was kind of funny, now that Harvey thought about it. Once again, a sense of unaccustomed freedom wafted through him, like a fresh breeze. He settled more comfortably on his floor mat and grinned up at them through a mouthful of salad. Ronnie appeared worried by his reaction, but Jake only smiled back at him, as if greatly pleased with himself.

 

Gifted with cab fare from Jake, Ronnie left after lunch, and Harvey cleaned up. When he was finished, he found Jake at his computer, a pair of reading glassed perched on his nose. He glanced up and saw Harvey watching him.

"All done? Good. I can finish replying to these blasted emails later." He set his glasses on the desk, stood up and moved to the couch, sitting with his knees spread wide and his hands behind his head. "Come over here. Sit, stand, kneel. Just as long as you stay off of the furniture."

Harvey hesitated, but in the end he chose to sit, one knee up with an arm resting on it. When he was settled, he gave Jake a questioning look.

"I thought I should check in with you," Jake began. "How are you doing? Yes, you have my permission to speak."

"My ass hurts," Harvey admitted. His mouth twisted with reluctance, but he made the next admission anyway. "And my pride." A humorless laugh. "This ain't easy."

"No. It rarely is. What about the drinking? Any cravings there?"

Harvey's eyebrows shot up as he realized with some surprise that since he'd first walked through the front door of Jake's apartment, he hadn't thought about taking a drink. "No. None."

"He's healed," said Jake, voice wry. "If only it were that simple, right?"

"Right."

"Let's talk about that. You mentioned at the meeting what got you started drinking. Tell me, what drives that impulse now? The last time you wanted a drink, where were you? What were you doing?"

Harvey's fragile good mood began to darken. "You were there. It was in court yesterday. I fucked up my presentation to the judge, who denied all three of our motions."

"That's all?"

"That's enough. But no, now that you mention it, I think being thoroughly dressed down by the client was the worst thing. I'm no stranger to client temper tantrums, but this time I absolutely deserved it."

"How did that make you feel?"

Harvey's eyes narrowed as he studied Jake. "This is starting to feel like a therapy session."

"And you object to that?"

"Well, gee, Dr. Freud, I'm just not sure I want you crawling around in my brain."

Jake laughed softly. "As if I'd want to spend any time in there." He shuddered and whispered, "The horror...."

Harvey gave a reluctant huff, which was almost a laugh. "Yeah, tell me about it." His voice caught, and just like that, his eyes stung with the threat of tears. He frowned, searching for a glib remark and failing.

"Honesty is so important right now, Harvey. I know it's painful, but I've witnessed how strong you can be. It's just you and me here. You don't have to hide." He waited a few seconds. "So tell me, when your client called you out, how were you feeling, right at that moment?"

Harvey stared down at the floor, remembering. "I felt...ashamed. And so fucking afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Of...failure. Weakness. That it was all starting to unravel, everything I'd worked for, all that Jessica had given to me."

"Jessica?"

"My boss." He looked up and found Jake leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his intense expression boring into Harvey.

"And what did she give you?"

Harvey sighed. "Everything. I don't know what the hell she saw in me. She paid for law school, though. Sent me to the DA's office for experience. Kept a job for me for when I was ready."

"And without Jessica?"

He thought about how to answer that. "Without Jessica...." He placed the flat of his palm near the floor. "I'm down here." He raised his hand above his head. "With her help, I'm up here."

"I see. And that's where you want to stay."

"Of course."

"Why?"

Harvey stared at him, not understanding the question. "What do you mean? Why do I want to stay on top? Why wouldn't I?"

Jake shrugged. "It has to be exhausting. Fighting off all challengers. Making good on all your bluster, day after day after day. Don't you ever want to just say 'fuck it, I'm done? I'm sitting this one out'?"

Harvey opened his mouth, thinking he was sure of the answer, and then snapped it shut again. He'd been about to say, _I live for the fight,_ but was that the truth?

He leaned back, supporting himself with one hand, brows furrowed in thought. He'd been trained for the fight, at Harvard, by Jessica, by Cameron Dennis. They'd all offered him red meat and cheered him on when he took it between his teeth and refused to let go, and cheered louder when he left his opponents bloodied and beaten. He'd accepted their praise and their esteem, had internalized it for so long that it felt like it came from within, that he truly _was_ that pit bull they all wanted, their savage, brutal champion.

"They wanted that," he muttered, as if Jake had asked him a different question. “But so did I.” He met Jake's eyes. "I chose my life. Yes, it has its frustrations, but that's universal, isn't it?"

"And when the frustrations begin to kill you?"

The laugh that Harvey attempted sounded strained. "That might be overstating it."

"Is it?"

Harvey ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I worked hard to get where I am. I'm not going to just give it all up and move to the mountains or wherever, to contemplate my navel, just for the sake of a tranquil mind. That sounds like death to me."

Shaking his head, Jake snorted out a laugh. "Where'd you get that from? It's not all or nothing. I'm not suggesting you give it all up. I just think you should give yourself a break. Being human and flawed is not a bad thing."

"How would you know?"

"Nice. A compliment _and_ an insult." He leaned back, regarding Harvey. When he spoke again, he seemingly changed the subject. "Talk to me about why you refuse to kneel."

Harvey's breath caught in surprise, but he quickly recovered. "It's demeaning." That wasn't the entire truth, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

Jake's gaze traveled up and down Harvey's naked body, where he crouched on the floor. A smile teased one side of the big man's mouth. "I could name half a dozen things you've done -- or had done to you -- in the past twenty-four hours more demeaning than kneeling for you Dom. So try again. What's going on? Something you're too afraid to admit?"

"I'm not -- " The denial sprang automatically to his lips. Harvey's teeth ground together. He saw Jake's provocation for what it was, but it still proved effective. He'd never told anyone this story. He'd also never backed down from a challenge, not since....

He sighed through his nose. "My mom cheated on my dad. More than once. The second time I caught her, I came home early from school, and there was this guy in the kitchen, cooking eggs, using my dad's favorite spatula, and wearing his bathrobe. That made me so angry."

His whole face went tight as he remembered that day. "I didn't think, I just reacted, and took a swing at him. He...." Harvey burned with shame at the memory. "He handled me so easily, grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm behind my back, forced me to my knees. My mom was there by then, just watching, not saying a word. He made me apologize. I didn't want to, but I thought he would break my arm, so I finally gave in." His eyes had filled with tears at the retelling, and he brushed them away impatiently as they spilled over and dampened his cheeks. "I wanted to kill him," he whispered, "but I was so weak, and I swore I'd never be that weak again."

He'd been staring at the floor, gaze unfocused, and jumped when he felt Jake's hand on his head. The other man stood over him, looking down at him with nothing but compassion in his eyes. "I understand now. Thank you for telling me."

He stroked Harvey's head, fingers digging in slightly, soothing and spreading pleasure though him. "I want you to think about something, though. I'm not forcing you to kneel. I'm asking you. I'm not doing it to hurt you, or to punish you. Despite the words that sometimes come out of my mouth, I'll always have respect for you. This is for you, to show you what you can be. Open yourself up to the possibility of moving past that one ugly moment in your life. Imagine yourself kneeling, picture it in your mind, how it might feel, and think about what you could learn from viewing the world from that different perspective."

Not trusting his voice, Harvey nodded, closing his eyes and biting his lip. He'd do what Jake asked and think about it, but the very idea of it still filled him with loathing and shame. And remembering that man, his mom's lover -- he'd never known his name -- made him sick and dizzy and angry, with no outlet for his anger. He nearly opened his mouth to beg Jake to take him down the hall and beat him long enough and hard enough to exorcise the poisonous memory. That felt like capitulation, though, and he wasn't quite ready for that.

Soon, perhaps, but not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Jake lounged in a chair just outside the kitchen, sketching Harvey over and over while he checked the salmon under the broiler, cooked the quinoa, and chopped and steamed vegetables for dinner. It was distracting, and more than a little annoying.

“Are you going to title your finished work ‘The Naked Chef,’ and sell it for a thousand dollars?” Harvey asked sarcastically.

“I’m a famous artist,” Jake answered, pretending to be offended. “I could get double that, at least. And I think you’re overstating it to call yourself a chef.”

“Better triple it. If I burn my junk fixing your dinner, I’ll sue for emotional distress.”

Jake gave an amused snort. “I’ll counter sue for property damage.”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “I’m not your property.”

“Read your contract, Harvard boy.”

Harvey chose not to dignify that with a response. He dished up the food, set Jake’s plate at his place at the table, and dropped to the floor in his customary spot. They ate in silence for several minutes.

Jake spoke first. “You’ve survived nearly a week with me. Bet you didn’t think you’d make it.”

Harvey grunted. “There were a few times….”

“You return to work tomorrow. Any concerns?”

Harvey chewed and thought about that. “The same ones I came in with.”

“Disappointed? Were you expecting all your troubles to magically disappear overnight? That’s not how this works.”

 _Then how does it work?_ he wanted to ask. “Yeah, I know.” He forced down a mouthful of quinoa, deciding that he should have cooked it longer. “So what happens next?”

“Next, we go into the play room and I beat your ass with a leather strap until you cry.”

Harvey gave an indignant huff. “I’m familiar with the regular evening schedule, thank you. I meant, after tonight? I go back to work. I shave off this beard, put on a suit, and return to my life. What about this? Us?”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

A bitter laugh escaped Harvey. “What? Now you’re giving me a choice?”

Jake set down his fork and took a long drink of ice water, eyeing Harvey over the rim of his glass. “Until kidnapping is no longer a crime, I can’t exactly force you to do anything, can I? I will tell you that I recommend you pack your bags and move in here for the duration of your contract. We would go on as we have been, except that you’d leave every morning to go to work, and return here at night.”

“And alternatively?”

“Alternatively, you stay at your condo, and we make up a weekly schedule of the times you need to be here. Same deal, just a lot more commuting for you.”

Harvey got to his feet and collected the dishes, carrying them into the kitchen. “And you lose your trusty houseboy.”

“There is that. Ronnie’s been hinting that he’d like to move in, though.”

Shooting a look over his shoulder as he scrubbed the plates, Harvey said, “I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of true love.”

“ _Love_.”

Jake spoke the word with such derision, that Harvey turned around and tilted his head to one side. “Not a fan, I take it.”

“Christ, don’t tell me you are?”

Harvey shrugged. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Although he’d experienced what was either love or a reasonable counterfeit for it, he’d never found it to be a useful or empowering emotion. In his opinion, it didn’t hold up favorably against honesty and loyalty, and too often worked directly against those two things. “Who has time for that?” he finally muttered, and ignored Jake’s quiet chuckle.

 

******

 

The elevator ascended from the lobby. Harvey eyed himself critically in the mirrored doors. He looked the same as always: excellent three-piece suit, impeccable tie, every hair in place, poker face firmly established, eyes dark and…flinty? No, not so flinty this morning. He frowned at himself. Something was off.

He’d received his regular spanking from Jake before he headed home, showered, shaved and dressed. He arrived at work early enough to grab coffee and a bagel from the cart downstairs. Donna had already texted him his schedule for the morning. There were no storm clouds on his professional horizon – none he could see, anyway.

That expression, though…that face in the mirror, staring back at him. He swallowed, shifted his eyes away, and glanced around the crowded car. His fellow passengers were either glued to their phones, or staring vacantly into space. No one paid him any attention. The car stopped and let off two people, and then continued to rise. He dared another look in the mirror. Instead of rock solid confidence, a pained sort of uncertainty gazed back at him. He felt a sudden choking sensation, and must have betrayed himself with a sound, because the woman next to him gave him a curious look out of the side of her eye. He cleared his throat.

Finally, he arrived at his floor and hurried off the elevator, taking long strides toward his office. He nodded once at Donna as he passed her desk, and shut the door behind himself, dropping down into his chair with an explosive exhalation that turned to a low curse as his sore bottom made contact. Mindful of the glass that separated him from his eagle-eyed assistant, he refrained from rubbing his ass, or burying his face in his hands. He took a careful sip of coffee and told himself he’d been imagining things.

 _No more mirrors._ That was the answer, obviously. He felt like himself. That mattered more than some trick of the light, some bad elevator fluorescence that made him look vulnerable and too pale. He opened the lid of his laptop and powered it up, sorting through his inbox while he waited for the login screen to appear.

His office door opened. Donna slipped inside and shut the door behind her. She looked angry.

“What the hell is your problem?” she hissed at him, stalking closer to lean over his desk. “You disappear for nearly a week, and all I get from Jessica is…well, exactly nothing. And then you whisk in here without so much as a ‘good morning, Donna.’ Where the hell were you?”

He sighed and discreetly dropped his bagel into the trash. “I was…away. My phone was confiscated on the first day. I asked Jessica to pass that along to you. If she didn’t, I’m sorry. I’ll have a word with her –”

“Oh, don’t bother. You’ll cover for her. She’ll cover for you.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and walked over to the couch, staring down at it as if she couldn’t decide whether or not to sit. “I thought we were friends. Friends don’t treat friends this way.” Her mouth twisted, as if she was tasting something awful. “Were you on one of your benders?”

Harvey felt that accusation hit him right in the center of his chest. All the air seemed to leave his lungs in a painful rush. “No,” he choked out. “God, Donna. How can you even ask me that?”

Her eyes gleamed wetly. “Because that’s what drunks do. They slip, and fall, and fuck up everything they touch, and then they lie as if their lives depended on it.”

Harvey rubbed his chest, feeling as if he might be ill. He knew he’d put Donna through a lot in the last few months, but she’d never come at him like this before. “I swear, I haven’t had so much as a drop of alcohol since Jessica bailed me out of jail. I’ll pee in a cup for you right now to prove it.”

“Yeah, right.”

He ripped the lid off his coffee cup, dumped the contents in the trash, and surged to his feet. “You think I’m kidding?” He reached for his zipper.

“Jesus. Just stop.” She shook her head and gave a huff of laughter. “Keep it in your pants.” Using her thumbs, she wiped carefully underneath each eye, probably trying to preserve her makeup. “What am I supposed to think? You tell me.”

Harvey studied her, and his heart thudded with sudden…fear? He knew had to tell her, but had hoped to postpone the confession for a good while longer. As usual, though, she wasn’t going to pull her punches. That’s the kind of friendship they had. Unlike with most people he knew, he actually cared what she thought of him. He walked around his desk and gestured down at the couch. “Have a seat,” he said.

She hesitated, and then sat down slowly. He stuck his hands in his pockets and started to pace.

“What do you know about BDSM?” he asked her, and began to perspire.

 

When he’d finished telling her about Jake, how they’d met, and how he’d spent the last week, Donna was speechless for several minutes, simply staring up at him with her mouth hanging open. Finally, she gave her head a quick shake, as if to clear it. “Harvey Specter, you are a unique and strange individual.”

That startled a laugh out of him. “I don’t know about that. You want to see unique and strange, you ought to meet Jake.”

“Pass.” She patted the couch next to her, and he finally relented and took a seat. “Harvey…are you sure about this? And there was no alcohol involved?”

“None.”

“Do you swear? I’m not kidding. You lie to me just once….”

She left the threat unspoken, but Harvey understood completely. “I may have done a lot of shitty things to you in the past few months, but I’ve never lied to you.”

“No, you just had Jessica do your lying for you.”

There wasn’t much he could say to defend himself on that count. “I’m sorry.”

She studied him intently. “Has it helped?”

 _Excellent question_. “It hasn’t hurt.” He checked himself. “Except for the parts where it really fucking hurt.”

His mouth quirked up in a smile as Donna burst out laughing. Almost immediately, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“God, Harvey, I can’t even imagine it.”

“Then please do us both a favor and stop trying to imagine it.” Both of them grew serious again. “It’s a process,” he finally allowed. “I’m in it for the long haul. Six months minimum. All I can tell you right now is that Wednesday afternoon I was about five minutes away from heading to the nearest bar, and during the time I spent with Jake, I didn’t have a single urge to drink. It’s…it’s hard to explain. Jake is half dungeon master, half therapist.” He gave a humorless laugh. “And one hundred percent pain in the ass.”

“Takes one to know one,” Donna muttered, then louder, “Do you think you’ll actually last six months?”

“There were times I didn’t believe I could last another minute. And…as it turns out, I’m complete shit at submitting.”

“I could have told you that. It’s one of the things I admire about you.” She drummed her nails lightly on the surface of the leather couch cushion and then heaved a sigh and rose to her feet. “I’m glad you’re not drinking. And if this arrangement is what you need, that’s great. Just maybe spare me the details? I’m sure you make an adorable naked houseboy, but I prefer you in your suits, kicking ass and taking names.”

Harvey merely grunted in reply and watched her walk back out to her desk. Apparently everyone preferred him that way – _Harvey the pit bull_. Jessica. His clients. That’s who they saw. That’s who they wanted on their side, fighting their battles.

 _Everyone except Jake_.

With an annoyed shake of his head he moved behind his desk, and pulled the first client file off the pile that Donna had left for him.

 

At ten o’clock Harvey was due to meet with Gene Macon to go over their trial strategy. At least, that is what was on his calendar. When he arrived at the conference room, he found Gene and two of his colleagues, along with Louis Litt, already seated and deep in conversation.

“Uh, hello?” he said. “Excuse me. I thought I had a meeting scheduled for this room. Was I mistaken?” No immediate reply. “Gene? What’s going on?” Harvey flicked a glance toward Louis, who appeared both smug and sheepish. He was one of the few people Harvey knew who could pull off that combination.

Macon, on the other hand, appeared unambiguously hostile. “Oh, hello Harvey. Decided to show up to work today, I see. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Feeling….” Harvey frowned and gave Louis a questioning look. “I’m fine. I’ve been fine.”

“That’s not what Jessica told me,” said Louis, crossing his arms defensively. “She mentioned something about you _convalescing._ ” The way he pronounced the word made it sound like an accusation.

“Well, you got it wrong.” Harvey strode further into the room, reached for a chair, but decided that remaining standing gave him a greater position of strength. “I was called out of town, but now I’m back.” He stared pointedly at Louis, but the other man didn’t budge. “So, Louis,” he continued, voice dripping with venom, “you can leave now and get back to harassing the associates.”

“No, Harvey. That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not leaving. You are. Gene, and Debra and Niles here, have decided that I’m better suited to their legal needs than you.” He waited a beat. “So you can go get caught up on all the other matters you’ve been neglecting. I’ve got everything under control.”

Harvey could feel both his temper and his blood pressure rising. “Louis, you can’t do that. I have a signed retainer agreement from Macon Industries – ”

“Which you effectively voided by pulling your little disappearing act. Gene agrees with me that they would be better served by an attorney with a more… _sober_ …demeanor.”

“You fucking…backstabbing….”

“Jessica approved it.”

That stopped Harvey dead. He glared at Louis, at Gene, at Debra and Niles. Fury bubbled up and seemed to choke him. He had no response, though, no comeback or excuse or ace up his sleeve. Both Louis and the client were well within their rights here. Harvey knew what the retainer agreement said as well as Louis did. He thought briefly of confronting Jessica, or of raging at everyone in the room, but what purpose would that serve?

So he swallowed his anger, nodded tightly, and exited the room, feeling queasy and dizzy.

_What the hell just happened?_

He stormed to his office, ignoring Donna’s startled look. Moving carefully, he sat behind his desk and stared blankly at the computer screen. He had the sudden urge to hurl the computer across the room, or to get up and punch the wall, and keep punching it until his knuckles were bloody and swollen.

Instead, he shoved all his frustration and anger down and reached for the next file.

 

An hour later, Jessica stopped by his office.

“Louis tells me you took Macon’s reassignment with good grace.”

“Did he really?” Harvey barely looked up. She was standing in front of his desk, doing her intimidation through towering thing. “You could have warned me. I don’t appreciate being blindsided like that.”

“Is that so? Believe it or not, the world went right on turning, even without you here to grace us with your splendor.” Her tone was cutting and cold.

Harvey raised his eyes and took in her crossed arms and rigid stance. “Are you punishing me?” he asked incredulously. When she continued to glare at him, suddenly he was furious all over again. “I’m doing what you wanted me to do,” he said, rising to his feet. “I quit drinking, and some days I may be holding on by the thinnest of threads, but I’m fucking doing it. But I can’t – ” Strong emotion momentarily closed his throat. When he could continue, he said, “I need your support in this, Jessica. You can’t cut my legs out from under me every time I do something that you interpret as weakness. _God_.”

He spun around abruptly to stare out the window. “How did you think it made me feel, to have Louis Litt, of all people, smirking at me, telling me you handed Macon over to him? Gene is one of my best and oldest clients. You know goddamn well he would have jumped ship after Hardman left, if it wasn’t for me.”

He heard Jessica sigh, but kept his gaze on the skyline.

“Harvey….I hate to say this, but you’re not the same man anymore. I can’t put my faith in someone as unpredictable as you’ve been.”

And that really fucking hurt.

“I’ve never been disloyal to you,” he muttered.

“Which I appreciate.” A few seconds of silence passed. “Harvey, look at me. Please.”

Schooling his features to impassivity, Harvey turned around. “Do I need to get my resume together?” he asked. “Is that what this is? Are you firing me?”

“Harvey, _no_. That’s not what I’m saying. Look, Macon was out the door if I didn’t hand him off to Louis. I did what I did for the good of the firm. But take that as a warning. You may have quit drinking, but you need to get your act together, and get it together fast.”

Harvey closed his eyes, jaw clenching and unclenching. “I’m trying,” he got out. “You have no idea what I’ve done….” He opened his eyes to meet her gaze.

Jessica’s dark eyes appeared warm and compassionate, but Harvey knew how effortlessly she could put on act to get what she wanted. “I know you’re trying,” she soothed. “Just…try harder. Show me you’re still the merciless fighter I trained you to be.”

“You mean you want your pit bull back?” he asked faintly, with a stab of pain.

“Now you’re getting it.”

He almost flinched when she reached for him and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Make me proud,” were her parting words. “Like you used to.”

He could practically feel the blood drain from his face. A glance at Donna’s stricken look told him she’d heard every word. Fighting down his nausea, and feeling as if he was moving underwater, he returned to his chair. It was going to be a late night. Jake was expecting him by seven, but Jake would just have to get over it.

 

Harvey texted Jake just before seven: _Late night. Can’t make it._

Jake: _Be here tomorrow 6:00 am_

Harvey: _I’ll try_

Jake: _Be. Here._

Harvey glared down at his phone, shaking his head. Fuck Jake anyway, and all his heavy-handed bullshit. He turned his phone upside down, and when it buzzed five minutes later, he ignored it.

When it buzzed again, he turned it off.

 

The next morning, Harvey was at his desk by five thirty. He half-expected more texts to arrive from Jake, but six o’clock came and went, his phone remained silent, and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Probably sensing Harvey’s current state of mind, Donna made sure he had no morning appointments, so that he could work steadily through his backlog of files. He made good headway, but as he got caught up, he began to notice that several big cases were conspicuous by their absence. Frowning, he went out to Donna’s desk.

“Where’s McKernan Motors? They had a patent filing coming up.”

“Jessica took it.”

“Huh. What about Martin Industries?”

Donna’s face tightened, but she answered, voice carefully neutral, “She gave that to Louis.”

Harvey told himself to breathe, to remain calm. “I see. Are there any other cases that were reassigned while I was away?”

“Garwood.”

“Garwood.” He’d signed them less than a month ago. Harvey bit back a groan. “Might as well tell me everything.”

“You’re not going to like it. Okay, okay. Medea went to Paul Porter. Butterfield jumped ship completely. Word is they’re still shopping around for new representation.”

“Anyone else?”

She sighed. “Daisy Valdarte, Tigerlily Enterprises and GenCor are all reviewing their agreements. I think Daisy will stick with you, but the other two…not so much. GenCor hinted they might go the in-house route.” She scrunched up her lips and gave him a pitying look. “Oh, and Sidwell may be shaky, but he insists on speaking directly to you before he makes a move.”

Annoyance swelled inside him. He tipped his head to one side. “And you were going to tell me this…when?”

“About Sidwell? When you’d gotten about an inch further down that pile on your desk.”

“And the rest of them?”

She bit her lip. “I actually thought I’d let Jessica break the news to you on the rest of them. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten around to it yet.”

He gave a huff. “Probably waiting until she can use the bad news to her advantage.” He held out a hand, palm up. “Sidwell’s messages?”

She reached into a drawer, removed a thick stack of pink message forms, and slapped them into his hand.

“Christ,” he muttered, and returned to his desk to figure out how best to placate Jonathan Sidwell.

 

By three, Sidwell was firmly back in the fold, and Harvey was nearly caught up, which was good, because at five fifteen, Mitchell Bleeker showed up unexpectedly, demanding that Harvey review some contracts from a potential new supplier.

Harvey would have put anyone else off, but Bleeker’s account was a hefty one, and the man insisted on special treatment. Whenever he flew in from Chicago, Harvey was expected to drop everything. Luckily, his visits didn’t happen that often, which is why Harvey indulged him when he did.

Plus, today, he didn’t need any more losses. He stood and shook Bleeker’s hand.

“I’d be happy to take a look at them for you right now,” said Harvey. He couldn’t help but wonder what had brought Bleeker all the way out here, when he could have simply e-mailed the documents to New York. “You’re welcome to wait, or if you have plans for tonight, I’ll give you a call first thing in the morning to let you know if I have any recommendations.”

“Nah. Business can wait until tomorrow. What I’d really like to do is take you out for some drinks, after which you can treat me to a nice dinner on the firm, and then we can hunt up some little beauties like we did that night after the Teague merger was finalized.”

Harvey hid his wince. He had only the vaguest recollection of that night, and had always suspected that it was not one of his prouder moments. He’d woken up sweating alcohol in Bleeker’s suite at the Plaza, with a passed out barista in his bed, a mouth that tasted like cheap cigars and sushi, and the pressing need to vomit out every single thing in his stomach. He’d missed the toilet by a good two feet and upon Bleeker’s amused inquiry later, he’d blithely blamed the barista.

No, not his finest hour.

And here was Bleeker, intent on reenacting the night. “I don’t know,” Harvey said, trying to manufacture an excuse. “I actually have an appointment I can’t miss.” He’d fully intended to cancel on Jake again tonight, but Bleeker didn’t have to know that.

“Nope. Not acceptable. I need to blow off some steam, and I want to do it with my favorite attorney and best drinking buddy. Grab your coat.”

“Mitch….” Harvey wavered. This sounded like the worst of ideas. He could just imagine what Jessica would say, though, if he refused to cater to a client like Bleeker. It didn’t mean he had to drink. He’d just go along for the ride and make sure Bleeker didn’t get into any trouble. He closed his laptop, stood up, and shrugged into his jacket. “Let’s go.” He put as much enthusiasm as he could into the two words, but in truth, he felt as if he were going to meet his doom.

 

The drink sat in front of Harvey, right where it had been for the past forty-five minutes. Macallan 18. Against his firm objections, Bleeker had ordered the drink for him, and now Harvey could smell the notes of cinnamon and vanilla and raspberry, wafting across the table. Inside heavy cut crystal, light gleamed in its rich mahogany depths. _Fuck_. He could almost taste it on his tongue already, the decadent caress of clove and ginger and orange and tobacco, followed by the wash of sweet toffee and leather and cocoa and….

He grabbed his bottle of sparkling water and took a swig, trying to stay focused on whatever it was Bleeker was saying. Something about the Cubs…or was it the White Sox? He nodded sympathetically, which seemed safe in either case, and made noises about the Yankees, and what a crap season they were having.

Bleeker lifted his own glass, and gestured toward Harvey’s untouched drink. “Don’t you think you’ve let it breathe long enough?” As he took a sip, his eyes fluttered halfway closed. “Goddamn, that’s good.” He waited, eyes fixed on Harvey. “Drink your damn scotch,” he finally ordered.

“Ah.” Harvey let out a slow breath, striving to release the tension in his stomach. “I really shouldn’t. I have to be up early, with meetings all day….” Which was probably a lie. He hadn’t even glanced at his schedule for tomorrow yet.

“I call bullshit, Harvey. Do you know how much this shit costs? Of course you do. We’ve killed enough bottles together in the years you’ve worked for me.”

It was on the tip of Harvey’s tongue to just say it, to blurt out, _I’m an alcoholic,_ and that would be that, no more pressure. Any reasonable person could simply accept that and move on, right?

_Except…._

Except to Harvey it felt like an admission of weakness, and to a man like Bleeker, it would more than likely be perceived that way. Hard-drinking, hard-partying Harvey Specter was part of the package, one of the perks that came with being an obscenely wealthy businessman who got what he wanted when he wanted it. Telling him “no” would come with a cost, Harvey was certain of it. Could he afford it right now, considering how things stood with Jessica?

 _No, he couldn’t afford to disappoint Mitchell Bleeker._ That’s the lie he told himself, the lie which justified his hand reaching forward and lifting the heavy glass, the lie which conveniently overlooked the fact that the very act of taking a drink was an even more direct path to incurring Jessica’s displeasure. He carried the glass to his nose, and inhaled all of those heady, spicy, earthy notes, set it against his lips and tipped it up, letting the complex flavors explode over his tongue.

_Oh holy jesus fuck._

It felt as if his lungs seized up, his heart stopped, his mind stilled, and the world froze all around him as he savored his first drink in weeks. His eyes may have rolled back in his head. A tingle ran down his spine, nearly orgasmic in its intensity.

“God,” he breathed.

A hand slammed down onto his shoulder, and everything sped up again. “Good man,” Bleeker boomed, and clinked his glass to Harvey’s. “Now it’s a party. Let’s have some steaks and find some company for the night.”

Bleeker was still talking. Harvey could see his lips moving, his hands gesturing, his eyes lighting with excitement. Harvey could no longer hear him, though. He was trapped inside a viscous bubble of shock. The world appeared blurry and indistinct. Nothing made sense. What was he doing?

He licked his lips and tasted the Macallan, watched his hand lift the glass and raise it to his mouth again. This time, instead of savoring it, he poured half of it straight down his throat, felt the burn, felt it flow into him and warm his insides all the way down. He hissed out a breath through his teeth and stared at the remaining alcohol in the glass, turning it in his hand to watch the way the light danced inside of it.

“Sure,” he answered vaguely to whatever Bleeker had just said. His fingers tightened on the glass and he set it carefully on the table.

Suddenly he felt sick. He’d stepped over the line. He hadn’t just nudged one exploratory toe over, he’d taken a purposeful, unambiguous step, and now here he was, back in the land of chaos and shame and failure. And sweet god, he wanted to finish that drink. He wanted to bathe in it, drown in it.

He surged to his feet. Whatever Bleeker had been saying cut off abruptly.

“I’m,” said Harvey, and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “I’m sorry. I’m not well. Excuse me.” He didn’t wait for a response, but lurched in the direction of the men’s room, bumping the back of chairs and nearly colliding with a waiter. He wasn’t drunk. He was in a blind panic. His chest hurt and he couldn’t fucking breathe. People and objects would not remain in focus. The men’s room door finally loomed in front of him and he barreled through it, making for one of the stalls.

Locked inside, he leaned his head against the door, telling himself to take deep breaths, to just calm the fuck down. Nausea gripped him. He whirled, and his knees hit the floor as he doubled up over the toilet, heaving convulsively, over and over, but bringing up only the half drink that he’d downed. Even after he’d regained some control, he stayed like that, afraid to move.

It was several minutes before he was able to reach for some toilet paper to wipe his mouth. He flushed the toilet and staggered to his feet. The smell of vomit mingled with Macallan hung in the air, and he grimaced, unlocking the door and pushing his way out of the stall.

The room was empty and he took his time washing his hands and rinsing out his mouth. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. The man that stared back appeared utterly lost. His face was white as parchment, his eyes huge and pleading. He tried to rearrange his face, to don a mask that would pass muster with Mitchell Bleeker. He couldn’t do it though, and the effort made him want to weep.

Wisps of panic began to stir inside his chest once more. He considered possible strategies for a graceful exit from the evening, which caused the wisps to move and thicken and coalesce. He simply couldn’t do it, couldn’t face the client in this state.

Keeping one eye on the wreck in the mirror, he felt in his pocket for his phone and hit speed-dial. “Ray,” he croaked, “I need a ride.”

 

Harvey knocked on the apartment door, waited five seconds and knocked again harder, uncaring of the pain that flared in his knuckles. He reached up to yank his tie loose and unfasten the top button of his shirt. Listening, he finally heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the door. He blew out a breath, praying he looked sane – sane enough – in case he was being surveilled through the peephole.

The door opened to reveal a frowning Jake. He wore only jeans, and held his flogger in one hand. Harvey knew Jake had every right to slam the door in his face, to tell him he was busy and to get lost and never come back. He knew he deserved all of that.

Jake took one look at Harvey’s face, and his own annoyed frown turned immediately into compassion and concern. “Get the hell in here,” he growled, pulling the door wider. He glanced behind himself, back down the hallway. “I can’t leave Ronnie alone in there, but –” He didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence.

As soon as the door had closed behind Harvey, he slid straight to his knees and bowed his head. He heard Jake’s quick inhalation of breath, and then the room was silent. Harvey counted out ten full, thudding beats of his heart.

“Help,” he whispered, and started to cry.

A warm, broad palm covered the top of his head. “Yes.” The hand stroked gently. “You’re going to be all right, my boy. You’re going to be just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your kudos and comments on the last chapter.
> 
> I don't think this chapter needs a warning, but I've been wrong before. So in the interests of not being a horrible person, I'm throwing a warning down in the end notes. If you're curious, or worried, and don't mind the spoiler, take a look before reading. Otherwise...enjoy!

Harvey couldn’t remember the last time he’d let go and cried like this – really wept, not just teared up or allowed a few manly tears to escape.

He cried so hard now, it hurt. It felt like his chest would crack open, spreading fissures through his body, splintering him into useless shards.

He felt Jake’s hand on his head, stroking gently, and somehow that made things worse, made him seize up even harder with grief and anguish, paralyzed except for the shudders that gripped him and ripped through him. Strong arms wrapped around him and he became distantly aware that Jake had joined him on his knees, and held him, pressing Harvey’s head to his shoulder and whispering words of comfort in his ear.

“I’ve got you. I’m taking over now. We’ll figure this out. Sshh. You’re okay. That’s it. Get it all out for me.”

Gradually, Harvey relaxed against him, going so far as to hug him back, holding on with a hopeless sort of desperation. He didn’t know how long they stayed that way, but eventually Jake kissed his temple and pulled away slightly. His warm hazel eyes regarded Harvey, and were filled with such _knowing_ that Harvey nearly lost it again.

“I have to go see to Ronnie,” Jake said.

Harvey’s face tightened in mortification. “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have – ”

Jake touched the side of his face. “It's fine. You did the right thing, coming here.” He grasped Harvey’s head between both hands. “Will you be alright for a couple of minutes while I go let him down and get him settled? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Harvey sniffed, feeling suddenly foolish. He didn’t trust his voice, and so nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Thank you, Harvey.” He planted another kiss on his forehead. “You’ll have my full attention when I get back. In the meantime, why don’t you wait for me in the guest bedroom?” He helped Harvey stand, and kept a hand on his arm as he accompanied him to the bedroom.

Harvey took a couple of deep breaths. “Do you want me to….I mean, should I get undressed?”

“Whatever makes you comfortable right now.” Jake gave him another searching appraisal. “You’ll be okay on your own for a few minutes?”

“Yeah. Go do what you need to do. Apologize to Ronnie for me, would you?”

“No apology necessary. I’m sure he’ll understand.” With that he left Harvey alone.

He felt behind himself for the bed and sat heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. His panic had receded, and doubts tried to creep in, but all it took was remembering the sublime taste of the Macallan, and how much he’d wanted more, to banish those doubts. He couldn’t handle this on his own.

He tugged at his tie, undoing the knot and pulling it free. His fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt, and then it seemed natural and right to continue undressing. When he was finished, he hung the suit in the closet, placed his shoes neatly beneath it, and folded his underwear into a drawer. Then he resumed his kneeling position on the floor, head bowed and hands on his thighs. He tried to make his mind a blank, to cease replaying the last hour.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, and then closed his eyes and just waited.

 

“I’ve got Ronnie settled in my bed. He thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.”

Normally, that might have prompted a chuckle from Harvey, but it seemed as if all the humor had been drained out of him along with his tears. He opened his eyes and watched Jake watch him. The other man smiled gently and walked into the room to sit on the bed in front of Harvey.

“So. Talk to me. What do you need from me? If you can tell me, I’ll try to give it to you. If not, I’ll have to go on my instincts.” His head tilted to the side, as if he was willing to wait as long as it took for Harvey to answer.

For a moment, Harvey was at a loss. He looked around the room, at the walls, and the ceiling, and the window, as if hoping to find some magical guidance hovering just at the edges of his peripheral vision. Talking might help, but he wasn’t ready for that. He felt too full, too ready to simply explode with an impotent rage which translated, he knew, into deep fear. He sighed, heard the catch in his throat, felt the press of incipient tears again.

“I don’t know,” he began, and stopped, because that wasn’t true. He did know. He knew precisely what he needed. It was the reason he’d fled the restaurant and ran straight here. He needed what Jake could give him.

He cleared his throat. “I think….” He finally looked directly at Jake, staring up into his eyes, his own eyes damp and imploring. “I want…I _need_ you to take me to your play room and choose something – I’ll take the worst, harshest thing that you’ve got – the cane, the bullwhip, whatever you choose – but I need you to beat me, to hit me until I can’t think anymore. I…” His voice broke. He waited, and then tried again. “I don’t want you to stop until you’re too tired to hit me again.”

Jake sighed. “Oh, Harvey,” he murmured. “What did you do that makes you feel the need to be punished like that?” When Harvey remained silent, the big man sighed again and heaved himself to his feet, as if he could feel some of what weighted Harvey down. “I’ll agree to part of what you’ve asked for. We’ll go to the play room and I’ll beat you, but only enough to take you down and get you out of your head. If you’re ready to talk after that, we’ll stay up all night if we need to.” He held out his hand. “Good?”

Harvey nodded, and found his voice. “Good. Thank you, sir.”

 

Harvey knew it was no coincidence that Jake chose the spanking bench tonight. Two days ago, he would have refused. Tonight, when Jake ushered Harvey to it, he didn’t hesitate. He climbed up and knelt over the padded leather top, feeling the beginning of calm – or at least temporary release from the worst of his tumult – settle over him when Jake strapped him in at wrists and ankles. For the next hour or more, he was done trying to steer his own life. As Jake had promised him earlier, he was in charge of him now. Harvey came close to weeping again at the sheer relief of that realization.

“This isn’t about punishment,” Jake was saying, “so I’m not going to use the cane. And I sure as hell am not going to use my bullwhip on you.” He came back from the wall carrying the leather strap with which Harvey had become intimately familiar in the past week. “We’ve had good results with this before.” He paused, seeming to consider. “Would you like me to warm you up with something else? Flogger? My hand?”

“No, sir,” Harvey bit out. “Just…do it. Please.”

“Patience, boy. First, before I begin, is there anything you can tell me about tonight?”

Harvey felt in no shape for a lengthy talk therapy session, but he supposed Jake had to know the truth. “I took a drink tonight.” The terse confession sent a hot wave of shame through him.

He saw Jake go completely still. “Ah. I see.” He ran the leather strap back and forth over his palm a few times. “Well, you can elaborate later on how that happened.” Walking behind Harvey, he drew the leather slowly down the center of his back, making Harvey shiver with anticipation. “As I said, this isn’t punishment. Clearly you’re punishing yourself enough right now. I understand the impulse, but I hope that ultimately you’ll come to realize that self-blame accomplishes nothing. Nothing constructive.”

He stroked Harvey’s back and bottom with his hand, an oddly tender gesture. Seconds later, the strap landed, hitting so hard the sound seemed to echo in the room. Harvey grunted and flinched. The strap hit again, and continued to hit in a steady, relentless beat.

At first, Harvey endured, being capable of nothing more. His mind jumped and skittered, refusing to land for long on any one thought. The past two days played out in a jerky, disjointed kaleidoscope of images and recollections. Each time the strap whacked his backside, the impact jarred his mind in another direction. Disappointed Jessica. Angry Donna. Smug Louis. Pissed off clients. Ice cold Jessica. His own weakness, on undeniable display at the restaurant with Mitchell Bleeker. And, _god._ That drink. Every solemn promise broken in that simple act, that grasp of fingers, lift of elbow.

He shut his eyes and cursed when the next blows fell. “Fuck. _Fuck. Goddamned fucking son-of-a-bitch._ ” He panted through the next five strikes. A growl formed deep in his chest and pushed its way out, rising in volume and pitch. He was screaming, part of him realized in dull disbelief. He tightened the muscles in his throat, cutting off the hateful sound. His turbulent emotion needed an outlet, though.

“No,” he groaned. “No.” He repeated the word over and over, moaning it, shouting it, roaring it out, filling the air with his denials, his rejection of himself and what he’d become. Thought fell away, but the roaring continued, wordless and seemingly without limit. The strap fell, and it hurt, sure, but he didn’t give a fuck about that, he needed it, needed Jake’s controlled violence to purge the poison inside of him.

Eventually, his voice grew hoarse and croaky. The beating stopped and Harvey forced his eyes open. Jake crouched in front of him, saying his name, pausing, saying it again.

“Yeah,” Harvey rasped. “Keep goin’. Not done yet.”

Jake held a bottle of water to his mouth, and Harvey drank greedily. Voice momentarily renewed, he begged, “Please, sir. More.” He didn’t need to tell Jake that it wasn’t the water he was begging for.

Concern shone in Jake’s eyes as he assessed Harvey. “Yes,” he finally agreed. “You’re not there yet.” He petted Harvey’s head, letting his fingers comb through his hair. “This time, fight less. Accept what I’m giving you. I’m in control. Don’t suffer for yourself. Suffer for me.” He gave Harvey a few more sips of water. “You’re a strong man, Harvey.” He smiled, setting the bottle aside. “Good thing I’m stronger.”

A painful laugh escaped Harvey. “It never ends with you, does it?”

Jake’s only response was to push up to his full height and resume his place behind Harvey.

The strap hit Harvey’s bottom and this time his mind proclaimed, _yessss._

As he grunted and took the beating, he spent a few minutes puzzling over what Jake had meant. _Suffer for me._ He thought about the twelve steps, about turning his will over to Jake. Harvey had asked for this, and although Jake had agreed to it, he’d done so on his own terms. He would continue until he’d decided it was enough, and short of safewording, Harvey couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

He focused on the hurt, on the sound of the strap smacking his bottom, on the sting, the spreading ache, the slide of sweat down his back and ribs. His breathing evened out and his pulse felt as if it synced up with the thudding rhythm of Jake’s swings. He began to imagine the fleshy, percussive whacks as the steady, driving beat under a slow, complex, bluesy, jazz number that took it’s time and gradually swelled around them, turning agony into something exquisite and transcendent.

He imagined standing where Jake was, seeing himself through the other man’s eyes. It was his own arm lifting and falling, laying hard strikes of leather across sweet, vulnerable flesh, eyeing the beautifully reddened skin, itching to stretch a hand out to feel the heat there, but too intent on continuing the rhythm of spiraling pain to stop. Imagining Jake’s arousal at the sight had Harvey becoming likewise aroused, not by the pain itself, but by the sudden realization of his own power, the power of his submission. It didn’t make him weak. It made him… _free._

Tears pricked his eyes at this small epiphany. A delicious shiver ran through him, and the tension and fear that had gripped him since… _always_ …eased. The constriction around his chest dissolved. He luxuriated in taking deep, cleansing breaths, stunned by a sudden sense of taking flight. He moaned in delight, and then simply existed in the moment, floating above everything that had seemed so important and dire. He wanted to stay there forever, wherever _there_ was.

At some point the beating stopped, but he barely registered this. When Jake unfastened his bonds, Harvey’s head came up, and he blinked lazily, as if trying to wake himself from a long sleep. Water appeared, and he drank. Jake helped him up off the bench, and escorted him over to the bed against one wall, sitting him down on it and crouching in front of him, hands on Harvey’s thighs. Harvey’s erect penis bobbed between them, but Jake acted as if he didn’t see it. He stroked Harvey’s legs, thumbs circling his inner thighs.

Unthinkingly, Harvey bent closer, intent on kissing Jake. The other man allowed it for perhaps a second, before grasping the hair at the back of Harvey’s head and pulling him free with gentle firmness. “No,” he told Harvey, with regret, and humor, and infinite patience.

He loosened his hold on Harvey’s hair and cupped his skull, maneuvering him so that his head rested on his broad shoulder. His fingers dug into and massaged Harvey’s scalp, and that was almost as nice as a kiss, so he relaxed into the sensation. Harvey’s hand crept up to circle his own cock, and he started to jack himself slowly, only to have Jake’s hand clamp onto his wrist, halting him.

Harvey mouthed Jake’s shoulder. “Please,” he breathed.

“No,” said Jake once more.

Harvey’s hand fell away from his cock, and he added tongue and the scrape of teeth to his molestation of Jake’s damp flesh. “I’m okay,” he whispered, “with you fucking me. I want it. Please?” Any other time, he would have been appalled to hear himself beg like this, but he was impossibly turned on, and craved release any way he could get.

Jake gave an impatient huff. “You’re ridiculously tempting right now. However, I may be a Grade A asshole, but we did sign a contract, which we agreed to when you were in a sound mind. More sound than you are right now, anyway. And that means no sex with your Dom.”

Harvey groaned, and kissed across Jake’s collarbone to his throat.

“Stop that,” Jake chided. “Shit. Figures you’d be the sort of sub who gets horny after scening.” He stood up, but kept one hand on Harvey’s shoulder. Harvey reached out and trailed his fingers down Jake’s hip. “Okay, I have an idea. Stay here. I’ll be right back. And no touching yourself while I’m gone.”

Left by himself, Harvey lay back on the bed. His kept his hands at his sides, and although he practically twitched with the need to touch himself, he felt a stronger compulsion to obey Jake. He was only on his own for a couple of minutes, which he spent marveling at how the stresses of the past two days had shrunk, and seemed inconsequential. He would surely feel the consequences of ditching Mitchell Bleeker tomorrow, but right now he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

Jake returned with Ronnie in tow. The younger man looked rumpled and sleepy and adorable.

Harvey realized what Jake had in mind. He sat up slowly, shaking his head in immediate rejection. “Jake… what the hell? I don’t think.…This has nothing to do with the kid.” The kid, who was naked and smiling shyly at him, who had about the sweetest ass Harvey had ever seen, and whose skinny cock already stood at precarious attention.

“Ronnie is my good, obedient boy,” Jake said. “He loves to do whatever I tell him to do. Ronnie, reassure Harvey for me, will you?”

Ronnie went right up to Harvey and wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing himself between Harvey’s legs. Surprised, Harvey set a hand on his hip.

“I think you’re hot,” Ronnie murmured. “And this would be so hot. You, fucking me, and me taking it, all because Jake says we have to.” He ran a finger up the underside of Harvey’s cock, making him groan. “Please?” He put his lips close to Harvey’s ear and whispered, “You sort of owe me, you know? For interrupting my time with Jake.”

Harvey wavered. His body screamed for release, and here was Ronnie, eager to give it to him.

“Would it help,” asked Jake, “if I ordered you?”

Harvey thought about that, then, “Yeah,” he said faintly. “Order me. Make me.” _Tell me what to do._

Jake nodded once. “Harvey, I want you to fuck this little sub until he screams. Ronnie kneel on the bed.” He snapped his fingers and pointed, even though Ronnie hadn’t wasted any time scrambling into position. “He’s prepped and ready for you, Harvey. In fact, I’m in the mood for a show. I rarely find myself with two subs to play with anymore. This is an unexpected windfall. So…Harvey, I’d like you to begin by spanking his ass. Use your hand, and don’t stop until he’s good and red.”

Ronnie leaned his head on his arms and waggled his ass, signaling his approval of the plan. Jake pulled up a chair and sat, as if settling in for, as he’d said, a show.

Harvey knelt with one knee on the bed and cupped Ronnie’s bottom with his palm. He could feel no tension in the boy, heard his breathing accelerate with what he interpreted as excitement, and so, assured that he was fully on board with Jake’s plans, Harvey gave the round cheek an experimental slap. Ronnie circled his hips and whined.

“You’ll have to hit him much harder than that,” commented Jake, “if you want him to enjoy it.”

So Harvey swung away a second time, producing a satisfying smacking sound. A faint pink imprint of his hand blossomed on Ronnie’s soft, pale flesh. Harvey spanked him five times in rapid succession, and then paused to place his hand over the reddened spot, feeling the warmth rising from it. _I like this_ , he realized with some surprise. How had he gone for so long without knowing this about himself? He shot a glance at Jake, as if to ask, _Am I doing this right?_

“Pretend,” suggested Jake, “that Ronnie has been a very bad boy, and it’s up to you to show him the error of his ways.”

“Sorry about this,” Harvey muttered, not meaning a word of it, and began spanking Ronnie in earnest, while resting his other hand on his hip to anchor him in place.

Not that Ronnie was going anywhere. He moaned and whined and writhed, giving every indication that he loved every second of his “punishment.” Harvey wasn’t exactly suffering either. Each time the flat of his hand struck Ronnie, and the boy sighed or squealed in delight, Harvey’s arousal grew. Several minutes into the spanking, his hand stung, edging towards numbness, and he was insanely turned on by the whole thing. Burying his cock between those two spank-reddened cheeks seemed like the only goal in the world worth caring about right now.

“Please,” Harvey breathed, sparing a glance at Jake. The big man had unzipped his jeans and freed his massive cock, stroking himself off leisurely as he watched Harvey work Ronnie over. And that sight was almost as hot as the sweet little ass on the bed in front of him. “Oh, holy fuck,” Harvey groaned.

“Put your fingers inside him,” Jake ordered serenely. “Feel how ready he is for you.”

Harvey worked his index finger into Ronnie. It slid in easily, meeting little resistance. He had a sudden image of pretty Ronnie on his back, knees bent and legs spread, fingering himself open, getting himself ready for Jake and never suspecting that Harvey would be the one to benefit from those careful preparations instead.

He had two fingers in the boy now, stroking in and out, his own need not forgotten, but set aside for the moment as he saw to the needs of the boy. He located his prostate, and targeted it for long minutes, drinking in every delicious sound that he drew from Ronnie as he played with him, the moans and sighs and almost-purrs.

“You like that?” he murmured, sticking three fingers into him in one rough plunge. “Hmm? You like the way that feels?” He was all the way up on the bed now, kneeling behind the boy, finger-fucking him, filled with a savage kind of joy at the way Ronnie rocked back to meet him, and only moaned louder when Harvey’s thrusts quickened and grew rougher.

“Yes, sir,” moaned Ronnie, and Harvey only had a second to process how it made him feel to be addressed that way, when a condom flicked up onto the bed, landing near his knee, courtesy of Jake.

“Thanks,” he acknowledged breathlessly, pulling his fingers out of Ronnie’s ass. His hands shook as he fumbled with the wrapper, finally got it open, and rolled the condom down his stiff erection.

“Harvey,” came Jake’s low voice, “you have my permission to come inside my boy’s ass, whenever you like. However, you, Ronnie, do not have permission. Be a good boy and take what Harvey gives you, and maybe I’ll let you come afterwards.”

Harvey might have felt bad for Ronnie, but the boy only nodded and spread his knees wider, turning his head so that Harvey could see his ecstatic expression and shining, adoring eyes that sought out first Jake, and then Harvey.

He lined himself up and pushed into the boy’s lubed entrance, biting his lip at how good it felt, how tightly the hot channel gloved his cock. “F-u-u-c-k, you feel good.” He rocked a few times, in and out, fingertips digging into narrow hips. He heard a contented sigh in response, slid all the way home and paused, right on the edge and not wanting to come right away. He dropped a few kisses on Ronnie’s shoulders, licked at the salty taste of sweat, nipped his ear. “So sweet,” he marveled.

“Move, Harvey,” Jake urged. “Ride that ass.”

Ronnie giggled breathlessly. Harvey took a firm grip of him at hip and shoulder and began a steady plunge, fucking in and out, setting a slow rhythm at first, but unable to hold back for long. He felt desperate for release.

The smooth roll of his hips soon shifted to jerky thrusts. He knew he was nailing Ronnie’s prostate when the boy began to scream, voice rapidly going hoarse, as if he’d done a lot of screaming already tonight. Harvey braced one hand against the headboard and slammed into Ronnie over and over, feeling his orgasm racing in on him. Three more hard thrusts and he froze, clutching the slender body to him, muffling his own harsh yells against the boy’s shoulder. His vision whited out, his body shook and shuddered, and he collapsed on top of Ronnie, wrung out and exhausted.

 

He could have handled his own business – he always had before – but didn’t have the energy to object when Jake helped him off of Ronnie, and even went so far as to dispose of the condom for him. He lay on his back, one knee bent, passive and utterly relaxed, the observer now, while Ronnie dropped to his knees in front of Jake and sucked him off with what looked like equal parts skill and enthusiasm. Then Jake sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed, and held Ronnie in his lap to jack him off, the boy’s skinny little penis practically disappearing inside his paw.

It was all so decadent, and _dirty,_ Harvey reflected lazily, and likely approximated how his night would have ended up if he’d stuck with Mitchell Bleeker. The exception being, of course, that he would have woken up hungover and filled with remorse.

The peaceful lassitude in which he drifted receded somewhat with thoughts of Bleeker. He glanced at the floor, where Jake cradled Ronnie against him, whispering in his ear. _Sweet nothings?_ Harvey nearly laughed out loud at the thought. According to Jake, he didn’t go in for that sort of thing. No, it was more likely dirty nothings being murmured to the boy. Beginning to feel restless, Harvey sat up and leaned back against the wall.

Jake met Harvey’s eye and spoke in hushed tones. “I’m going to take this sweet little sub back to bed. When your skeletal system solidifies again, go wait for me in the living room.” He stood up and hoisted Ronnie over his shoulder, so that his upper torso hung down Jake’s back. As they left, Ronnie revived enough to lift his head and give Harvey a slow wink.

“ _Christ,_ ” Harvey muttered.

 

******

 

Harvey knelt in Jake’s living room. If he had been tired before, now, after the scene and the sex, he felt close to collapse.   He feared, though, that if he closed his eyes, the panic which had brought him here would come rolling back in. He wondered what time it was. He’d taken off his watch when he undressed. He’d also left his phone in his coat pocket. Had Bleeker called or texted when he realized Harvey had disappeared on him? Had he contacted Jessica? Did Harvey even have a job still? Maybe he should go check his phone before Jake got back. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he feared. Maybe it was worse. Maybe --

“Harvey. You’re overthinking again. What has you so worried?” Jake strolled out, dressed now in black pajama pants and a black and white striped robe which hung open in front.

“Nothing. Everything.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Know any law firms that are hiring?”

“I’m going to fix us some herbal tea. Then you’re going to tell me all about your week so far.”

“Yes, dear,” retorted Harvey archly. He got a look at Jake’s lowered eyebrows and sighed. “Yes, sir,” he amended.

A few minutes later, Jake returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. He sat on the couch, facing Harvey, and set both mugs on the table in front of them. “Tell me everything.”

It was a different type of unburdening that followed, perhaps not as viscerally satisfying as the strapping, but nearly as effective and cleansing. When he was done, he knelt with his gaze on the floor, waiting for Jake’s verdict.

“How many clients,” Jake finally asked, “have taken you out for drinks? Rough guess.”

Harvey blinked a few times, and shrugged. “Shit. I don’t know. A hundred, maybe? It’s kind of a thing, when we win a case, or sign a new client.”

“Hm. Do you plan to go through the same struggle every time you’re faced with this choice?”

He didn’t have a good answer for that. “Maybe it would be easier if I did start fresh somewhere else. If Bleeker complains to Jessica, that’s where I’ll end up anyway.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No.” The notion of leaving Pearson Hardman made him sick with dread and grief, and his chest ached just considering it.

“Then you need to figure out a strategy for handling this, since it’s going to come up again and again.”

“Got any suggestions?”

“Have you considered simply telling the truth?”

Harvey grimaced. He did not like that idea at all. He’d always been a firm believer that going with the truth was the best plan, but in this case…. “It would be professional suicide.”

“As opposed to personal suicide? I guarantee you, that’s where you headed if you continue drinking.”

“But…if I admit to this weakness, I can’t be me anymore.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m….” He stared at the floor, gaze going unfocused, and whispered, “I’m Harvey Fucking Specter, best goddamn closer in the city, and top of the food chain.” He looked Jake squarely in the eye and chuckled. “Or I _was_ the top of the food chain, until I met you.”

Jake smiled at that, as if merely accepting his due. “What about your boss, Jessica?” he asked.

“Fine. She’s a bigger fish as well. But I’m right up there.”

“But not at the top.”

Harvey huffed, beginning to feel annoyed. “No, not at the top.”

“So what is it you’re trying to protect, really?”

Frowning, Harvey gave his head a quick shake. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Jake picked up a mug and took a sip of tea. He gestured to the second mug, and waited until Harvey had tasted it before replying. “What do you think would have happened earlier tonight if you’d told your client that you no longer drink? You have to know that you’re not obligated to explain any further than that. He can draw his own conclusions, but that’s as far as it goes. What might he have done?”

“Decided I’m no fun anymore, and dropped my as his attorney.”

“He sounds like a terrible businessman, then.”

“He’s not. He’s a genius, actually. He’s grown his company nearly a hundredfold in the last fifteen years.”

Jake adopted a look of incredulity. “And he’s done that all by himself?”

“Of course not. He surrounds himself with smart people, hires only the best of the best.”

“Like you?”

Harvey shook his head in denial. “I see what you’re trying to do. But there are a dozen other corporate attorneys in New York – and Chicago for that matter, where they’re headquartered – ”

“Then why did he choose you?”

Harvey rubbed the back of his neck. “Because I’m the whole package. He enjoys my company – enjoyed, that is. Past tense.”

Jake was smirking at him now. “So you’re not simply an attorney, you’re a high-paid escort?”

“Maybe,” he said, voice sour. “And if I won’t put out….”

“Harvey….” Jake shook his head. “You’re right about one thing. If you considered drinking as part of your identity, then no, you can’t be that person any longer. So, think about what it means to redraw the boundaries of who you think you are.”

A hundred arguments jostled inside of Harvey, but Jake held up a hand to stop him from voicing them.

“I’d be willing to bet,” said Jake, “that right now your addiction is putting up one hell of a strong fight, doing a good job of shouting down all of the common sense I know you possess. You need to tell that voice to shut the fuck up, because it does not have your best interests at heart. It’s only objective is to get you to feed it, and it will lie, and manipulate, and twist reality, all in the service of getting what it wants.”

Harvey’s knees had begun to ache, and he shifted on the floor. Jake noticed, of course, and tossed him a pillow, which helped. Harvey resettled himself before asking, "If I can't trust the voices in my head, who can I trust?"

He'd meant it humorously, but when Jake leaned forward, his express was serious. “Me. You can trust me." He shook his head, frowning. "What do you think we're doing here?" He surged suddenly to his feet and began pacing. "You can go back out there -- " He made an expansive sweep with one arm. "And you can go right on slamming up against the world and what you imagine it wants you to be. And then you can come running back here whenever you're thrown into a blind panic. I'd never turn you away. But, _jesus,_ Harvey, you can't live the rest of your life like that."

"Then what --"

"Harvey, I want your trust, and your submission, to be something you carry out into the world with you. That's the only way you're going to survive this and move forward." Jake stopped his restless movements and gazed down at Harvey, eyes dark and intense. "I speak from experience. Truly bitter, harsh experience. You can't fight this on your own. You can't Rocky Balboa your way out of this one. You can't simply keep swinging and taking hits and waiting for the bell that's going to save your ass. There ain't no bell."

"Maybe...." Harvey paused, hoping he wasn't saying the wrong thing. "Maybe you're the bell."

Jake stared at him, brow furrowed. Then he laughed, amused and surprised. "Maybe I am. I've been called worse." He let out a long sigh, and for the first time Harvey saw weariness in Jake's posture and expression. "Harvey, will you agree to move in here for the duration of our contract?"

It wasn't as hard a decision has it had seemed to be two days ago. "Yes. I agree. Thank you, sir."

"Good. I'm glad." He laid his hand on Harvey's head for a few seconds. "Let's go to bed. After your morning discipline, we'll talk a little more. I'm not going to send you back out into the world without some tools to deal with the worst of the bullshit."

"That sounds good, sir. Sounds great." Harvey accepted the hand Jake gave him to help him to his feet.

He was surprised when Jake led him to the master bedroom. Harvey hesitated in the doorway. The room was dark, but he could make out the lump under the cover that was Ronnie. He was still, his breathing slow and heavy.

“There’s plenty of room,” Jake murmured from just behind him. “If that’s what you’re worried about. My bed can hold three people easily.”

Harvey shot him a quizzical look.

“The record is five,” Jake elaborated.

“Jesus.” Harvey shook his head. “I don’t want to know.” He continued to hesitate. “I can just take the guest room. Or head home. Just for tonight.”

"If you're serious about trusting me, it starts right now." He waited a couple of beats, and then ordered, "Get your ass in bed and spoon that sweet little sub."

Harvey choked on a laugh and sketched out a half-salute. "Sir, yes, sir."

In truth, it was no hardship to gather the warm body into his arms and rest his nose against the back of his neck. Ronnie sighed contentedly and pushed his bottom into Harvey's crotch. Harvey slung one leg over the boy's to keep him still. When Harvey was comfortable, Jake lay down next to them on his stomach, head turned towards them, and rested one big hand on Harvey's hip. As Harvey watched, eyes already drooping, Ronnie's hand crept forward to cup Jake's bulge, and Jake laid his free hand over Ronnie's.

Harvey had spent the vast majority of his nights -- the sleep portions -- alone, and it had been by choice. He had to admit though, that this was...nice. The closeness of other bodies comforted him, and relaxed him to such an extent that he drifted to sleep faster than he had in years, and achieved a full night of restful sleep.

 

******

 

Mitchell Bleeker was waiting in Harvey's office when he arrived at work the next day. As he passed Donna's desk, her neutral expression gave nothing away as to Bleeker's mood this morning. Harvey greeted Bleeker with a wary nod, and sat down behind his desk to start up his computer. As he did so, he remembered the documents he had promised to go over, and which still sat untouched on his desk.

Harvey eyed Bleeker. He didn't appear angry. He was more subdued than normal, certainly, but mostly he looked hungover. Fighting back a sigh, Harvey said, "Look, Mitch, I should apologize for last night." He had prepared himself for full disclosure, prepared to face whatever consequences might come from that, but Bleeker grunted and waved him off.

"No apology necessary. You looked pretty green around the gills. Figured it just wasn't your night." He grinned. "Didn't slow me down any. I met these two ladies. Not sisters, thank god, that can get weird as you well know, but best friends. Let me tell you what happened after I got them back to my suite."

What followed was a lurid tale which Harvey suspected was at least fifty percent bullshit. He nodded, and laughed in all the right places, all the while remembering what _he_ had done last night. Unlike Bleeker, he wasn't inclined to share with the class. As soon as the story finished, Harvey held up Bleeker's documents.

"I'm going to take a look at these for you. Would you like some coffee while you wait?"

Bleeker hummed. "Got any hair of the dog?"

Harvey shook his head. "Nope. Sorry."

"Oh, come on. I know you. You always have a little something squirreled away in that desk of yours."

Pulling in a deep breath, Harvey let it out slowly, and made his confession. "I gotta tell you, Mitch, I've had to slow way down on the drinking."

"Slow down? How slow?"

"To be honest, I've stopped entirely."

For what felt much too long, Bleeker just stared at him. "Ah," he finally said, connecting the dots. "So last night...that was about....?"

"Yeah. I slipped up. But I'm back on the wagon. Today is day one."

"Huh. No shit."

Harvey was prepared for scorn, for insults, for a hasty stalk out of his office. He wasn't expecting what Bleeker said next.

"That's fantastic, Harvey. My wife's been after me to cut back. My doctor too, to tell the truth. It's a bitch, though, isn't it? How'd you do it? Come on, man. Give me some pointers."

No way was Harvey going to mention a word about Jake, but he launched into an enthusiastic speech about AA, and when he'd finally managed to review the documents and send Bleeker on his way with his recommendations for revisions, the man seemed lighter and more hopeful.

Harvey, in contrast, had sweated through his dress shirt, and his guts felt queasy. He ran a hand over his face and tried to calm himself down. It hadn't gone as badly as he'd feared. It had gone remarkably well. But that was one client. How many times would he have to replay this nerve wracking scenario?

On a whim, he shot off a short text to Jake: _Quick. Tell me something to keep me away from the rat poison._

Less than a minute later, an answer arrived.

_Jake: Your ass could launch a thousand ships._

Harvey found himself laughing.

_Harvey: Flatterer._

_Jake: You okay?_

_Harvey: Yeah. Think of some compliments for my dick. You know, for the next existential crisis._

_Jake: Roger that. Oh wait, I'm still thinking of your ass._

_Harvey: Jerk._

_Harvey: Thanks. See you tonight._

_Jake: Yup._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (WARNING: Chapter contains a near-threesome. Or maybe an actual threesome. I might need a ruling from the judges on this one. Anyway, shmexy times with Harvey and Ronnie and Jake.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is somewhat shorter than previous ones, but I didn't want to make you wait too long for an update. I estimate that this story is around two-thirds finished (famous last words, right?). There won't be another update for a while, because I'm going to turn my full attention now to finishing Step Two. Again, just an estimate, but maybe don't expect more on this one for another three or four weeks. I appreciate all of the kind and generous comments I've received so far. And the kudos. You guys are great.

"It's been four days since I last took a drink." Harvey let his gaze travel around the room. Many of the faces at the Saturday night meeting were already familiar to him. He'd expected shock and pity to greet his confession, but saw mostly sympathy and encouraging nods. The shame-tinged tension coiled inside of him eased a little. In the far back row of chairs, Jake sprawled with his arms crossed, focused intently on Harvey.

"Yeah, so kind of a rough week. I stumbled a bit, but I'm back on track." He tilted one hand back and forth. "More or less. I lost some ground, but my sponsor has been a huge help. He understands what I'm going through, and what this is all about."

He continued talking, even as his mind was considering what he'd just said. Did Jake understand? He seemed to. Did that mean that he'd been where Harvey was now? Had Jake submitted to another man -- or woman -- or had he worked the steps in the usual, more conventional way?

"So," he said, reaching for a convenient cliché to wrap things up, "I'm still a work in progress, taking things one day at a time. Thanks."

_Thank you, Harvey,_ the group responded _._

Still deep in thought, he took his seat next to Jake. He waited until the meeting ended, and they were walking back to Jake's truck, to broach the subject. "I've never heard you speak at a meeting."

Jake shot him a look and kept walking. "I generally don't anymore. I get asked to guest speak at some of the bigger meetings a couple times a year. Beyond that, I don't feel the need to share my story. Just showing up suffices now."

"What is your story?"

Jake shrugged as he pressed the keyless remote to unlock the pickup. "Next time I'm asked to speak, come listen."

Harvey suspected Jake wanted him to drop it, but he was too curious to let it go. "Was your...path the same as mine?"

They got settled in the truck and Jake pulled out into traffic. "What you're really asking is, did I have a Dom? Did I submit to another person? Is that what you want to know?"

"It's just hard to picture." Harvey stared out the window, not sure anymore if he wanted an answer.

Jake hummed thoughtfully. "Truthfully, it's not in my nature to submit. Even less than it is in yours. Luckily, I found the one man -- or he found me -- who could manage it. You think _you_ put up a fight?" He laughed without humor. "My sponsor had the patience of Job. Ten Jobs. Good thing too, for me. If he didn't, I'd probably have died years ago."

"Was it a _Godzilla vs. Mothra_ type situation?"

"Hardly."

"Huh. Sounds like that is someone I'd like to meet." He wasn't sure why, beyond blatant nosiness. What sort of man could have controlled the force of nature that was Jake Salvatori?

"Would you?" Jake glanced over at him, and back at the road. "All right. I was planning to wait a few more weeks to take you over there, but I suppose now is as good a time as any." He changed lanes, cutting off a cab and ignoring the horn that blared at them. He took a right, and then another right. "I'm taking you to a club I belong to. You'll be there as my sub, so I'm going to ask you to dial back a little on your normal, Type A personality."

"A club?" Harvey already suspected this was something more than a place to go smoke expensive cigars and read the _Wall Street Journal._

"A BDSM club," Jake clarified.

A tiny jolt of excitement mixed with a thrill of alarm shot through Harvey. "Don't you need to go home and change first? Like into something with a little more leather?"

"You'd like that, huh? Got a thing for the leather daddies?"

He didn't (did he?), but he was curious as fuck to see the inside of this club, and more specifically to meet the man who had tamed Jake. So he kept his mouth shut in order to keep from saying anything that would cause Jake to change his mind.

 

 

Harvey’s mouth quirked up at the name on the door in front of him. _Payne._ Jake shot him a quelling look, as if he could see inside Harvey’s head to all of the inappropriate jokes queuing up.

“The owner’s name is Lester Payne,” he explained to Harvey, pushing the door open. “Les.”

“Hey, I didn’t say a word.”

“And you’d better not, or I’ll stick a pacifier in your mouth.”

_He’s bluffing…isn’t he?_  Harvey decided not to test him, because from what he’d observed so far, Jake did not bluff.

Just inside the dim interior, Jake turned to Harvey and held on to his arm. “I’m not expecting anything from you other than politeness and respect. Aside from that, you may speak freely. If you feel comfortable kneeling for me, I’d like that, but I’ll understand if you’re not prepared for a public display of submission.”

Harvey was both touched and surprised by Jake’s consideration. “I appreciate it.”

“I did kind of spring this visit on you. Normally, I’ll take the time to prepare my sub, go over the rules and protocols. We’ll do that before we come back. For now, be your usual charming self, just take it down a couple of notches.”

Harvey almost did come back with a sarcastic remark this time. What stopped him was something he read in Jake’s posture. Not nerves, surely, but a tension that usually was not present. “Yes, sir,” he finally murmured.

Jake nodded once before turning to lead him across the room.

As Harvey had already noted, the lighting in the large space was low, but strategically placed to either reveal or conceal. At some tables, only shadowy forms were visible, and whatever activities they were engaged in was left to the imagination. Elsewhere, no imagination was required, although as they passed on the way to the bar at the back of the room, Harvey made out nothing more interesting than heavy petting, one furtive blow job, and a great deal of what he could only describe as “posing.”

At the bar, Jake ordered them each a bottle of water and chatted briefly with the young woman tending bar, before introducing her to Harvey as Mel. “Is Les around?” Jake asked her.

Her face tightened. She glanced at Harvey, and back at Jake. “He’s in his office. Got back from the hospital about half an hour ago.”

Jake’s own expression took on a similarly grim aspect. “Any news?”

“Another week. Two at the most.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Both remained silent for a few moments, while Harvey was left to wonder what – or who – they were talking about.

“Could you see if he’s up for a couple of visitors?”

While she made the call, her back turned to the bar, Jake explained to Harvey, voice hushed. “His partner, Joshua, is terminal.”

“Fuck. That sucks. How long were they together?”

“Over ten years.”

“Wow.” Harvey could hardly wrap his head around the concept of being devoted to one person for that long. “If you think it would be better for me to wait out here….” He didn’t want to intrude on what would likely be an emotionally charged conversation.

“I brought you here to meet him.”

Harvey’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh. So, you and the owner of this place…." His gaze sharpened. "Exactly how long have you been sober?”

“Sixteen years, two months, four days and….” He made a show of looking at his wrist, where a watch might have been – if he wore one. “Fourteen hours, twenty-two minutes.”

Harvey laughed. “But who’s counting? Wait. You had your last drink at eight-thirty in the morning?”

“No. I had my last _fix_ at eight-thirty in the morning.”

Harvey did his best to hide his surprise, and was saved from the need to respond when Mel hung up the phone and turned around

“He’s waiting for you.”

“Close your mouth,” instructed a smirking Jake, “before somebody takes it as an invitation.”

 

Lester Payne’s office held a desk, a computer, and one file cabinet, but aside from these, the space looked nothing like any other office Harvey had seen. Past the smallish workstation, the room widened out into a condensed version of Jake’s play room. Everything was neat, and pristine, and as sober and precise as the man in the expensive grey suit to whom Harvey was introduced by Jake. Elegantly handsome, with black hair going silver at the temples, Lester Payne had icy grey eyes that seemed to miss nothing, and a gentle, dimpled smile which did little to soften the deep sorrow in his eyes.

Jake hugged him, asked after Joshua, and Les grimaced and shook his head. “I feel completely helpless. He’s in so much pain.” A spasm of grief contorted his face. “All those years, we played at pain, and he insisted he loved it, so much. But now….” He shook his head, unable to find words to express his anguish. “He has no choice but to bear it, so the least I can do is bear it too.” He tilted his head to one side, seeming to examine Jake, head to feet. “How are you, Jacob? You look good.” His gaze flick past Jake, to Harvey. “Who have you brought for me to meet?”

Now he scrutinized Harvey, who felt a sudden urge to slide to his knees, an urge which had less to do with Jake than with the power he sensed in Les, undiminished even with his current struggles.

“This is Harvey, my sub.”

Harvey did kneel then. It wasn’t a conscious choice, not really, simply an acknowledgement of what Jake had named him, and perhaps a natural reaction to all of the power humming back and forth between the two other men. He kept his gaze on the floor while Les walked slowly around him.

“One of your special projects?” Les finally asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t say the word, but Harvey could have sworn he heard the ghost of a “ _sir”_ hang in the air between them.

“What happened to the other one? Ronnie, I believe it was?”

“I had to slow things down a little. He was becoming too attached. But I’m continuing with his training.”

“Ah. Two subs at once. An ambitious man, as always.” He returned his attention to Harvey, but his words remained directed at Jake. “I’d like to speak with this one alone, if that’s all right with you. And if it's all right with Harvey, of course.”

Jake caught Harvey’s eye, and arched one thick brow. “Any objections?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I’ll leave you alone. Come find me upstairs when you’re finished.”   He took a step toward the door, but paused. “I know it goes without saying, Les, but if there’s anything I can do….”

“I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

Jake left them alone.

Les leaned against the bondage table, arms crossed and eyed Harvey again for long seconds. “Did Jacob tell you how he and I met?” he asked.

Harvey shook his head. “I assume it was at a meeting?”

Les tipped his head to one side, frowning, before his face cleared as understanding dawned. “Oh, you mean an AA meeting? Or NA? No. Drugs and alcohol have never been a weakness for me.”

The unspoken implication being that he had different weaknesses. He didn’t elaborate, and Harvey would have had no trouble believing that Lester Payne had conquered any and all weaknesses long ago…except that wasn’t true. He’d allowed someone named Joshua to get under his defenses, and now he was paying the price for that. Harvey could feel sympathy, certainly, but with it came what he recognized as a less admirable sense of smugness – _he_ would never let another person get to him like that.

Les was speaking again. “We met in court, actually.”

Harvey didn’t bothering trying to hide his surprise at this revelation. “Court?”

A small smile deepened the dimple in Les’s cheek. “He stole my car.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Oh, you did.” Les chuckled drily. “Back then, he was a wild, completely unrepentant little shit bag. Skinny as a rail. Damn near skeletal in fact.”

Harvey tried to picture that, and couldn’t. “Why did he steal your car?”

“He claimed it was to pay for the next semester of art school. Which was a lie. He needed fast money for drugs. Anyone could see he was deep into withdrawals already. He was pale and shaky…. And still so combative…just pathetically unwilling to admit that it was over, and that he’d gotten himself in too deep to fight his way out of it. I agreed to drop the charges if he came to stay with me. I'm still not sure why. I guess I saw something redeemable in him, underneath all of the crud."

Harvey shifted uncomfortably, not entirely sure that he wanted to hear this story. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

Les seemed to think about that for a minute. “Because it’s important to know that despite the power exchange involved, we’re each and every one of us as human as the next person. A few of Jacob’s subs over the years have grown a touch too…worshipful. It’s led to problems. Something tells me that won’t be the case with you, but one never knows for sure. You’re new to all this, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Well, you couldn’t do much better than Jacob. So, was it alcohol with you?”

Harvey nodded.

“How long?”

“Four days sober.”

A frown creased Les’s elegant brow. “And how long have you been with Jacob?”

Harvey wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to hearing Jake referred to as “Jacob.” He counted backwards in his head. “About two weeks now.”

“Really? Now that is interesting.”

“It is?”

“I’ve never known him to keep one of his special projects after a relapse. He’s strictly a ‘zero strikes’ sort of person. He must see something special in you.”

Harvey didn’t know what to say to that, so he stared resolutely at the floor and said nothing.

“I’ll let you go,” Les finally said. “I hope you enjoy your visit, and that I see you back here soon. I’d join you, but….”

“I understand,” Harvey murmured. He wanted to say more, to offer his sympathy regarding Les’s dying partner, but didn’t feel as if he knew him well enough to intrude there. He rose to his feet and hesitated. “Would it be out of line to ask you something about Jake’s time with you?”

Les didn’t respond, just looked expectant.

“Did he actually kneel for you?”

Les stared, his eyes widening slightly, and then burst out laughing. “First off, that’s between the two of us. Secondly, because I believe this is what you’re really asking, Jacob was perhaps the best sub I ever trained.” A long pause, followed by, “Eventually,” in a droll voice.

“Okay. I think that answers my question. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Payne.”

“Likewise. And please call me Les.”

Harvey nodded and left.

 

After a leisurely tour through the upstairs rooms with Jake, during which Harvey did his best not to stop and gape stupidly at each of the three scenes in progress, they returned downstairs to find a demonstration taking place on the stage there. Jake found them a table, and Harvey knelt beside him, grateful for the padded kneeler provided.

“Is she – ” he started to ask. He squinted up at the stage. “Are those _needles?_ ”

“Yep.”

“Yikes.” Harvey shuddered at the sudden image of those long needles piercing _his_ flesh. _No thanks._ “Have you ever…?”

“Yes.” At Harvey’s raised eyebrow, Jake clarified, “Yes, I have used needles similar to that on a couple of my subs over the years. No, I have never been on the receiving end.”

“Well, before you get any ideas, I’m going to have to stamp a big red ‘veto’ on that.”

“Wimp.”

Harvey’s indignant splutter turned to laughter as he acknowledged the absurdity of the exchange. He turned his attention back to the stage and let himself wonder…what would it feel like? The young woman with the needles threading her skin did not look unhappy. On the contrary, the dreamy expression on her face seemed to indicate that she enjoyed it immensely. He tried to picture himself up there in her place, and shuddered again. Yeah, that was a big, definite _nope._ Still, he found it exciting to watch. In fact, he enjoyed the whole atmosphere of the place.

Reading his thoughts as always, Jake asked, “Would you like to return with me sometime, and make use of one of the semi-private rooms upstairs?”

He pretended to think it over, but he already knew the answer. “Sure. Just, no needles.”

“Noted.” Jake’s face as he watched the scene in progress held intense concentration, his pupils huge and black as his hazel eyes followed the action.

Harvey let his gaze drift to Jake’s crotch, and spotted the telltale bulge there.

“Quit staring, Harvard boy.”

Harvey cleared his throat to cover his laugh. “If you need to go find someone to help you with that, I'm fine on my own for a while.”

"You don't think I can control myself?"

"Hey, no judgment."

“I’ll survive.”

Of course he would. Harvey let it go.

After a few minutes, Jake shook his head, a faint look of disgust on his face. "I can't watch this any longer."

Harvey's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Don't tell me _you're_ getting squeamish?"

"What? No. It's bad technique. Her depth and spacing are all wrong. I may have a talk with her later." He stood up. "Come on. I want to show you something."

Harvey got to his feet, and then had to hurry to catch up with Jake. He led him back to the bar. The low railing Harvey had noticed earlier now had two kneeling subs -- a man and a woman -- cuffed to it.

"This is the Docking Station," explained Jake. "Unattended subs can be left here if their Dom needs to step away for a while. These two, though, are here so their Doms can watch. You see the green tape on them? Right near the collarbone. That indicates their availability."

"Availability?"

"Their mouths. Available to any and all who wish to partake."

"Their -- oh." He spent several seconds imagining what that might look like. "Are you going to...?"

"Me? No." He smiled smugly at Harvey. "That would hardly be fair to the poor unsuspecting little subs, now would it?"

Harvey rolled his eyes, and then winced when Jake flicked the back of his head. "Ow. Sorry. So you're showing me this because....?"

"Because the next time you volunteer to be left on your own, this is where you'll end up."

Sudden, unexpected heat shot through him, because now he was imagining himself kneeling there, with some stranger's cock stuffed down his throat. And _that_ , he was surprised to realize, would receive a huge green _Yes, please_ stamped across it. Not that he would admit that to Jake.

Or anyone else. Not yet.

Yeah, probably never. He'd keep that fascinating tidbit of self-knowledge to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I warned you it would be a while before I got back to this story....I never imagined it would be quite this long, though. So, apologies for the long wait. As a side note, I wrote the last part of this chapter in the dark, on a dying battery. We had a nasty wind storm yesterday, and my power is still out. I'm crammed into a corner of the only Starbucks with power where I could find parking (and this is Seattle, where we have about a million Starbucks...Starbuckses?). We're all fighting over the power outlet...but it's mine, MINE I TELL YOU!!! HAHAHAHA!!!.....(if we ever have a zombie apocalypse, I'll be the first to lose my mind).

Sunday, Harvey decided he needed to spend a few hours at the office, getting all his cases as squared away and caught up as he could in preparation for a week in which he fully intended to begin his return to the "old Harvey" -- without the alcohol, of course.

"You seem tense," observed Jake over the top of the newspaper, when Harvey told him his plans.

"It's the job. More so now than ever before. If I can't get my act together, I may not have the job much longer." Now that Jake had brought it up, Harvey felt the rawness of his anxiety scraping along his nerve endings, and forced down a shudder.

"I have something I'd like you to try," said Jake, folding the newspaper and setting it on the dining table, along with his reading glasses. "It might help." He waited, and then asked, "Are you willing to give it a try?"

Harvey had no idea what "it" was, but nodded his agreement anyway. "Anything to take the edge off." Anything but alcohol or drugs, but that went without saying.

"You're awfully trusting this morning."

"It's a thing I'm experimenting with. Go on. Tell me what you want me to do."

"Awfully bossy this morning, too. Go kneel by couch while I grab a few things."

"Yes, sir," said Harvey, attempting to make up for his earlier lapse.

 

What Jake wanted to try, it turned out, was gagging Harvey, blindfolding him, putting plugs in his ears, and cuffing his wrists to a chair in the living room, where Jake could keep an eye on him while he worked at his computer.

“If we had more time,” Jake told him before the earplugs went in, “I’d get you up on my sling, maybe use a hood on you.”

Harvey was already wearing the gag, so could only arch an eyebrow in question.

“The purpose,” explained Jake, naturally getting the hint, “is to cut off most of your sensory input and get you to focus on your submission.” He eyed Harvey closely. “That’s all I’m going to say. Quit trying to scowl at me around that gag or you’ll sprain your face.”

For the first several minutes, Harvey found it unnerving to be alone with his thoughts. But his mind gradually quieted as he considered the position he was in, and why he was there. He had agreed to this because Jake had asked it of him, and he was supposed to want to please Jake. Except…Jake had said this was to help Harvey.

Eventually, he stopped over-analyzing, and relaxed into the experience. It was a peaceful place to be, he admitted, not unlike turning over his phone and unplugging from the world for a few days. This was a shortcut to that experience. His anxiety bled away. He no longer felt on the verge of a fall, and even if he fell, so what? For once he had someone ready and willing to catch him.

 

When Jake finally released him, Harvey felt ridiculously calm and relaxed...centered, whatever that meant. And when he sat down in front of his desk in his office an hour later, he was filled with a clarity and confidence that had been missing for longer than he’d realized. Everything made sense, and his choices seemed clear. He made short work of the backlog of work, and as he shut down his computer and prepared to leave, he silently vowed that he would redouble his efforts to be the perfect sub that Jake deserved.

 

******

 

“I’m flying out to San Diego for a few days on Tuesday,” Jake announced during dinner.

Harvey swallowed carefully and took a swig of his mango-kiwi smoothie, remembering a conversation about this during his first week with Jake. “I’m not letting you crate me and take me with you. Just so you know.”

“No. I didn’t think you would.” Jake lowered his fork and studied Harvey where he sat cross-legged on the floor. “I realize this is bad timing.”

Harvey shrugged, trying to look as if he was not worried to be left to his own devices. “I’ll be fine on my own. You said it yourself. There’s the phone, and the computer. Skype.”

“Hm.” Jake took several more bites of his poached salmon, chewing slowly. “It’s early days yet for what I’m about to suggest, but I have a strong hunch that you can handle the challenge.”

“Challenge? Do I even want to ask?”

“You’re my live-in sub, and my primary focus at the moment. However, I also have Ronnie to think about. He’s further along in his training, but he’s also much needier than you.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s not a compliment, just a statement of fact.”

Jake finished off his salmon and roasted asparagus and fruit salad. Harvey marveled, as always, what a dainty manner of eating Jake had for such a big man. As soon as Jake set his knife and fork on his plate, and lifted his napkin to wipe his lips, Harvey was up and collecting the dishes. He carried them to the sink and ran the hot water.

“So?” he asked over his shoulder, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “What is this challenge you’re leaving me with?”

“I want you to look after Ronnie for me.”

Harvey squirted dish soap over the dishes and picked up the scrub brush. He turned around to face Jake, holding the brush like a scepter. “Look after him how?”

“I’d like you to act as my proxy while I’m away.”

Stunned, Harvey didn’t know how to respond. He turned back to the dishes, scrubbing away at them with single-minded vigor. He sensed Jake moving up behind him, and then felt his big paw on his shoulder. Harvey paused in his work, the soapy brush hovering in mid-air.

“Talk to me, boy.” His thumb caressed the knob at the top of Harvey’s spine.

Harvey set the brush in the sink and turned around. Jake didn’t move away, and so he found himself addressing his neck. “When you say proxy, you mean Dom. Do I have that right, sir?”

“You do.”

“Jake….” Harvey scowled, feeling resistance rise up with him. “I’m your sub. I’m no Dom. I don’t know the first thing about it.”

Jake’s hand combed through Harvey’s hair, tipping his head back so they could look one another in the eye. “There will be ground rules. We’ll go over them tomorrow night when Ronnie gets here with his things.”

“He’ll be staying here?”

“Yes.”

Jake’s thick fingers had begun massaging Harvey’s scalp. Without thinking, he pushed into the touch, seeking the comfort it brought. “I’m not sure I’d be comfortable hitting him,” Harvey warned, “other than spanking him, like I did before.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. Not yet. That would take more training than we have time for.”

“Oh. Good. Then what…?”

“He needs someone to take charge of him. He responds well to the sort of sensory restriction that I tried on you this morning. Try some of that. Have fun with it. I’ll allow light bondage and spanking. Nothing fancy. Give him his morning discipline. Twenty strikes with an open palm. Fuck him all you want. He’s a bit of a slut, which is…exhausting to be honest.”

Harvey smiled, arching an eyebrow. “Did I just hear you admit you’re getting old?”

Jake’s hand tightened, bringing sharp pain as he pulled Harvey’s head back further. “Jaded, maybe. Old? Not a chance.” He grabbed Harvey’s nipple and twisted, making him gasp. “If you ever want to renegotiate your contract, I’d be happy to demonstrate just how much stamina I still possess.”

“Tempting,” he got out, voice strained. “But I’m not sure I’d survive the experience.”

“Now you’re talking sense.” Jake let go of Harvey and took a step back. “Finish cleaning up and meet me in the play room in half an hour. I’ve got a couple of new toys I want to try out on you.”

Harvey turned back to the sink and glanced downward, where his dick stood at attention. He frowned and picked up the brush. Maybe a few days of guilt-free fucking was precisely what he needed.

 

******

 

Monday went surprisingly well. Martin Industries, unhappy that Louis insisted on circumventing their wishes at every turn, insisted that Harvey take over again. Jessica had him sit in on a meeting with McKernan Motors, which ended up with her turning the file back over to him. Valdarte set up a meeting with him for later in the week. And Jonathan Sidwell actually sent two new clients his way. It was looking as if all of his previous losses would be won back, and then some.

He did get a strange look or two from Sidwell at their lunch meeting when he ordered a sparkling water, instead of his customary scotch. Nothing was said loud, though, no aspersions were casts or objections voiced.

At the end of the work day, Harvey was out the door before seven, and naked and kneeling in Jake’s living room by seven-thirty, feeling light and hopeful. Adding to his good mood were the enticing aromas wafting out from the kitchen, where Ronnie was busy preparing dinner. It seemed that Harvey would be hanging up his apron until Jake got back from San Diego.

“To make this transition more manageable,” Jake was saying, “I’m going to ask you to go put on some pants. You can eat at the table with me. Keep in mind, though, that this is temporary. Once I get back, you’ll be naked and on the floor once more. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve explained all this to Ronnie already. Choose a time for his discipline. He’ll fix your breakfast. His first class starts at 9:00, so keep that in mind. Since you will likely be keep later hours than him, I’ve asked him to spend his afternoons at my studio. He has a list of chores to complete, but you needn’t worry about those. He’ll have dinner waiting for you by seven. I expect you to communicate, and keep him aware of any changes in your schedule. Got all that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re allowed use of the play room. However, the sling and cross are off-limits. That leaves the spanking bench, the bondage chair, and table. You may experiment with nipple clamps, but under no circumstances are you to leave them on longer than fifteen minutes at a time. Let’s see…butt plugs are fine. Dildos, yes. I’m trusting you know how to play safely by now?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“Ronnie’s safe word is red. He’ll use it if he needs to, and if you fail to respect his needs, I’ll hear about it.” He smiled grimly. “Can you guess the consequences if I hear any complaints from Ronnie?”

“The cane, I’m guessing.”

“You guess right. Oh, and one other thing. As I’ve told you, Ronnie will be sexually available to you at all times. I’m going to ask you to confine this to the bed, either in the playroom or one of the bedrooms.” He seemed to think about what he’d just said. “The exception to that would be blow jobs.” He waved one hand loosely, as if wearied by all of his own rules. “Just use your best judgment. I want you both in one piece when I get back.”

“When do you get back, sir?”

“My return flight gets in Friday afternoon.”

“Do you need a ride from the airport? I could send Ray.”

“Why, thank you, boy. That is considerate of you. Not necessary, though. Part of my commission includes limo service to and from the airport.”

“Nice.” Harvey’s lawyer brain latched on to something Jake had said. He opened his mouth, reconsidered, and shut it again.

“What is it?” asked Jake. “I can see the wheels in your head – not to mention the squirrels turning them.”

“Oh. Well, it was only a random thought. It sounds like you’ve got it covered anyway.” Jake continued to stare him, waiting with infinite patience. Harvey sighed. “I was just going to offer to review your contracts. But like I said, it sounds like you’ve already received some decent advice.”

“Really, Harvey? Are you trying to steal me away from my current counsel?”

Harvey smiled reluctantly. “Habit, sir.”

“He is good. Maybe you know him. Robert Zane?”

“Ah. Yeah. Never mind. I doubt that you could do better.” Out of the corner of his eye, Harvey spotted Ronnie carrying steaming plates of food to the dining table.

“Now you’ve got me curious,” said Jake. “Tell you what. I’ll leave the file on my desk before I go, and you can take a look. When I get back, I want to hear any recommendation you might come up with. And be sure to bill me for you time, of course.”

Harvey would look at the contracts, but he had no intention of billing Jake. That would mean officially setting him up as a client, and he would prefer that those two world did not collide. They could argue about that later, though, and knowing Jake, they probably would. “You got it. Sir.”

 

******

 

“Pretend I’m not here,” said Jake.

Harvey snorted. “If only,” he muttered, checking Ronnie’s bonds one more time. They’d placed him face down on the bondage table, wrists and ankles tied at each of the four corners.

Harvey ran a hand down the boy’s back and cupped a round cheek, experiencing an unexpected surge of possessiveness. They’d already negotiated the scene, which was not much more than thorough preparation for a good hard fucking. There wasn’t much to be said, but Harvey understand that Jake wanted to see how Harvey was with the boy, to reassure himself that he wasn’t making a mistake by trusting Harvey with this. _Talk him through every step,_ Jake had instructed earlier. Harvey strove to put Jake’s presence out of his mind and concentrate on Ronnie.

“I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” Harvey said. He drizzled lube on two fingers and pushed Ronnie’s cheeks apart, seeking and finding his puckered entrance. Ronnie was tight, but not virginally so, and Harvey pushed in with both fingers, thrusting firmly into his channel to smear lube liberally inside of him. “That’s it,” he murmured. “You take it so well, boy. So pretty for me.”

The words fell naturally from his lips, and had an immediate effect on Ronnie, who seemed to melt straight into the table. Any resistance to Harvey’s intrusion also melted away, so he fucked in and out, hard and fast. It was a heady feeling, having this boy tied up and at his mercy. When Ronnie began wriggling beneath him, chasing sensation, Harvey paused and slapped him several times on the meat of his ass. Ronnie squealed, more in surprise than from pain – Harvey hadn’t hit him that hard – and after that he held still.

Harvey continued to murmur soothingly to him while he pumped three fingers in and out, and then reached for the dildo. “Pretend,” said Harvey, “that this is my cock. Tell me how it makes you feel.”

He worked the dildo inside the boy, twisted it back and forth a couple of times and changed the angle until he found what he was searching for. Ronnie jerked once and was still, mouth wide open and panting. Harvey could see his narrow back moving up and down.

“Talk to me,” Harvey reminded him.

“Feels so good sir,” Ronnie moaned. “Please….”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me with it. Need it so bad. Need to come.”

“I’d very much like to see that. Not yet, though.” Harvey pushed the dildo in as far as he dared, and left it there. He watched Ronnie, watched him struggling not to move, struggling to be good for him, and it did something strange to his insides so see such dedicated effort, just because he’d demanded it. He thought about what else Ronnie might enjoy. “Would you like to suck me, boy?”

Ronnie nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. Yes, sir. This boy would love to suck you.”

It took a small amount of maneuvering to get Ronnie into the optimal position, while keeping him tied to the table. In the end, Harvey (following Jake’s whispered suggestion) increased the slack in the ropes binding Ronnie’s wrists to the table, and then wedged a pillow under his chest. The table was low enough – and Harvey was tall enough – that Harvey could feed himself into Ronnie’s widely waiting mouth. He continued to hold the base of his cock, while he let Ronnie do his best within his limited range of motion.

It turned out that Ronnie’s best was spectacular. His tongue was the star of the show, darting and swirling, picking its spots with skill and precision. His lips closed around the head of Harvey’s cock, soft and moist. With eyes closed he licked and suckled, delicately at first, and then with frantic little head bobs and desperate, hungry sounds. Harvey cradled his skull and threaded his fingers through his silky hair, rocking his hips minutely, holding himself back as he allowed sensation to build.

Finally, when he’d been brought right to the edge, he tightened his hold on Ronnie’s head and eased himself out of his mouth. Ronnie whimpered once, laying his head back down and breathing hard. Harvey rewarded him with a full minute of hard, relentless stabs with the dildo. “So good for me,” he praised. “So perfect.” He sped up his movements, and Ronnie whimpered, and then moaned and kept on moaning nonstop.

Sudden inspiration struck him. They hadn’t discussed this, but he doubted that either Ronnie or Jake would object. “Would you like to suck Jake while I’m fucking you with this dildo?” He took a cautious look at the big man, who appeared both surprised and amused. “Answer me, boy,”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jake?” queried Harvey softly.

Without a word, Jake uncrossed his arms, stepped closed and freed himself from his pants. From behind Ronnie, Harvey had the perfect view to watch the boy bestow the same treatment on Jake that Harvey had just received. Every so often, when Jake went especially deep, Harvey made sure to do the same with the dildo. Even from this angle, he could clearly see that Ronnie was flying high, deep into subspace. His eyes were closed, his limbs loose and lax, and the sounds he was making had Harvey longing to be inside of him _now_.

He caught the meaningful looks Jake was giving him. Harvey was running the show tonight, and even Jake’s orgasm was his to direct. “Jake,” he ordered, “come on the boy’s face. Now.”

With a smirk, Jake pulled out of Ronnie’s mouth, stroked himself hard and quick for half a minute, gave a low grunt and erupted. Hot semen matted the boy’s hair and dripped down his face. Harvey nearly groaned out loud at the sight of Ronnie’s mouth opening wide, and his tongue darting out to lick as much of it as he could reach.

Deciding it was time, Harvey stopped fucking Ronnie with the dildo and gently removed it. “Help me untie him,” he said to a surprisingly lucid and steady Jake, and they both worked together to get Ronnie untied and moved to the bed.

“On his back,” instructed Harvey. When Ronnie was sprawled out on the bed, “You still with me?” murmured Harvey. No reaction. “Open your eyes, boy.”

Eyelids fluttered open, and leaf-green eyes gazed dreamily up at him. “You gonna fuck me, sir?” Ronnie whispered.

Harvey swallowed hard, fighting down the sudden tenderness that rushed through him. Where had that even come from? “Yes, beautiful boy,” he answered huskily. “Gonna fuck you hard. After I come, you’re allowed to come too. Do you understand?”

Ronnie nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Harvey removed his pants, rolled on a condom, added more lube, knelt over Ronnie and thrust into his waiting, willing body. Slender legs came up to wrap around his waist. It felt like heaven. “Yeah,” he breathed. He was already so close, and it only took about a dozen quick, hard thrusts into the tight heat that gripped him so perfectly before he was yelling wordlessly and emptying himself into the condom. He tipped his head back, still connected, as aftershocks shook him.

His mind cleared and he caught the desperate look on Ronnie’s face as he humped upwards, reaching for his release. Harvey palmed his skinny dick and pumped him, bringing him off in seconds. The boy squealed and arched up, creaming over Harvey’s fist. When he collapsed backwards, Harvey lifted his hand to the boy’s mouth, and watched, fascinated, as he kitten-licked it clean.

“Thank you, boy,” Harvey said, voice low and somber. “That was perfect.”

Ronnie’s eyes shone at the praise. “Thank you, sir.”

They both turned their heads at the same time, each intent on acknowledging Jake, but he had slipped out of the room without either one of them noticing.

 

******

 

Harvey was exhausted when he arrived home Tuesday night. He’d saved a merger that had appeared dead in the water, won a motion in court, convinced Jessica to allow him some latitude in drafting the new McKernan by-laws, and signed a new client. He would have liked to unplug and let go with Jake, but Jake was gone until Friday. Instead, he was faced with a full evening with Ronnie, a sweet enough boy, but as Jake had correctly pointed out, a needy one. Harvey wasn’t convinced that he was up to filling those needs, and as he unlocked the front door of Jake’s apartment, he was already feeling resentful, and also feeling like a world class jerk for his resentment.

He didn’t even have the opportunity to hang up his jacket, or change his clothes. Ronnie was _right there,_ kneeling by the front door. Harvey gave him a grunt of acknowledgment, and then a slightly more civil grunt when Ronnie helped him out of his shoes and took his jacket from him.

“I have dinner ready, sir,” he murmured, eyes down. “Would you like to eat now?”

“Uh, yes. Sure. Let me just go change my clothes first. No, I don’t need any help with that. Thank you.”

In the guest bedroom, Harvey put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and went back out to find Ronnie still on his knees, just outside of the kitchen. Harvey swallowed hard, feeling uncomfortable with the whole situation, especially with no Jake here to act as a buffer between them. He’d agreed to do this, though, to take on this responsibility, so he hid his irritation.

“So, what’s for dinner?” he asked. The smile he directed down at the kneeling sub was only partially forced.

“Beef enchiladas.”

“Beef? I thought this was a cow free zone.”

Ronnie blushed, biting his lip and looking uncertain. “I thought that was only because of Jake. I can make something else. It won’t take me long.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Harvey mentally kicked himself. “It sounds great. And it smells wonderful. You made them yourself? Well then, thank you for taking all that trouble.”

“It wasn’t any trouble, sir.” Ronnie had hopped up and grabbed a pair of oven mitts to take the dish of enchiladas out of the oven and set it on the table. A salad from the refrigerator followed.

He dished up a plate for Harvey, and then one for himself. When Ronnie settled himself on the floor, Harvey sat down and took a careful bite, praying that the dish was at least edible. His eyes widened in pleased surprise. “These are really good,” he managed to get out around a mouthful of hot, cheesy, beefy enchilada.

“Thank you, sir.”

They both ate in silence for a few minutes, while Harvey searched his mind for something to say. Finally, “So you’re an art student?” he asked, even though they both knew that he already knew the answer to that.

Ronnie nodded, cheeks stuffed with food.

“What do you do? Are you a sculptor, like Jake?”

“No, sir. I paint. Oils and mixed media. I’m told my style is sort of Kandinsky meets El Greco.”

Harvey frowned as he tried to picture it, and failed. “Sounds…interesting.”

“I’m still finding myself, artistically speaking. Sort of like Picasso did. He emulated all these other artists’ styles, and he wasn’t half bad, kind of pedestrian and uninspired, but technically okay. And then one day something in his brain just exploded – not literally, of course – and he just _knew_.”

“So you’re waiting for your brain to explode?” asked Harvey, interested in spite of himself.

A one-shouldered shrug and pinkening checks told Harvey that Ronnie felt embarrassed at revealing this about himself. “Maybe. I don’t know. Before it happened, people compared Picasso to past masters. Now, we compare artists to him.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Picasso is not one of my favorites.”

“Yeah? Who is?”

Harvey pretended to give it some thought. “Bosch?”

A giggle from Ronnie. “I’d expect that answer from Jake, but not from you.”

“Really? Who did you think I was going to say?”

“I don’t know. Botticelli? Raphael?”

“How old do you think I am?”

More giggling. “Not _that_ old. But I think you have a thing for angels.”

Harvey nearly choked on his ceviche. “Now that’s a strange thing to say. I don’t even believe in them.”

“Which makes it even sadder, and kind of beautiful at the same time.”

Harvey stared at Ronnie for so long that the boy flushed a deeper shade of pink and dropped his eyes. Neither spoke for the rest of the meal.

 

*****

 

Harvey tugged on the chain connecting the nipple clamps attached to Ronnie, who sighed and shifted in the bondage chair. He was blindfolded, cuffed at wrists and ankles, and had been wearing a butt plug since just after dinner. “Tell me how that makes you feel,” ordered Harvey, giving the chain another sharp tug.

“Ah! Feels wonderful, sir.”

“It hurts though.”

“Oh, yes, sir. But it gets me so hot.”

Harvey didn’t understand this sort of enthusiastic masochism, and probably never would, he decided. He didn’t doubt that Ronnie was being truthful, so he gave the boy what he wanted, and continued to torture his nipples. He could do this all night, not because he enjoyed handing out pain, but the boy’s reactions were so delicious. He sighed, and moaned, and squirmed. His cock – that endearing, skinny thing that couldn’t quite stay upright without a precarious wobble – had Harvey’s mouth watering. He consulted the watch that he’d set on the table next to them. Time to remove the clamps, according to Jake’s rules.

Deciding to search for some latent sadism within himself, Harvey yanked off the first clamp without warning. Ronnie arched and pulled at his bonds, squealing in a most satisfying way.

“Oh, my,” Harvey murmured. “I should have given you some warning. Next time, I’ll –” And he ripped of the second clamp.

Ronnie’s scream this time was even louder and higher pitched. Harvey might have felt bad, but the skinny cock was so hard now that it barely wobbled at all. He tossed the clamps onto the table, dropped into a crouch in front of Ronnie’s spread knees, and engulfed his cock in one swift motion, suckling hard.

“Yesss,” hissed Ronnie. “Oh, sir. Yes.”

As Harvey continued to suck his cock, his hands came up to pinch Ronnie’s already swollen nipples, making him whimper and squirm harder.

“You’re gonna make me come,” Ronnie whined helplessly. “Oh, please sir. I’m close.”

Harvey lifted off for a few seconds. “You won’t. Not until I say so.” And he dove back down, easily taking the whole, slender shaft while he rolled Ronnie’s balls in his hands. The kid tasted ridiculously good, so Harvey feasted for a good long while, loving all of the beautiful sounds of torment and desperation coming from the boy.

Finally, he pulled off, keeping his hands on Ronnie’s thighs for balance. The boy’s head tossed back and forth. Harvey twisted the butt plug inside of him, and he bit his plump lower lip prettily.

“Let’s try something,” said Harvey, not entirely certain that it would succeed. “I’m going to allow you to come. I’m not going to touch you below the waist again, though.” He stood up and walked behind Ronnie, resting his arms on his shoulders. “I’m going to stand right here and play with your nipples, nothing more. You have five minutes. If you don’t come by then, you won’t get another chance tonight, even when I untie you, take you into the bedroom, and fuck you in the ass.” He paused to let his words sink in. “How does that sound? Think you’re up for the challenge?”

Ronnie gave a jerky nod, appearing uncertain and worried and so turned on.

Harvey licked his thumbs and rubbed them over Ronnie’s sensitive nipples. The boy thrust up, humping air, desperate gasping breaths seeming to fill the room.

“Come on, boy,” Harvey whispered, lips brushing his ear. “I know you want this.” Noticing that the mirror was directly across from the chair, he decided to take a page from Jake’s book, and dragged the blindfold up and off. “Open your eyes. Look at yourself.”

Ronnie’s eyelids lifted in a hesitant flutter, and his breathing grew even more erratic.

Harvey went back to rubbing and pinching his nipples while they both watched the boy in the mirror. Harvey’s large hands looked dark against the pale chest. Ronnie was biting his lip, face growing an alarming shade of red as he grunted and jerked his hips.

“Relax,” Harvey murmured. “You’re trying too hard. Keep watching yourself. I’m going to count to ten, and then I want you to give it all up for me. Don’t think. Just listen to my voice, and feel.”

Harvey fingers began a hard, steady rhythm, pinching and releasing Ronnie’s swollen little nubs. “One. You’re beautiful. Two. Like an angel. Three. I’m going to fuck your sweet, angel ass. Four. You’re so good for me. Five. You take the pain so well. Six. Imagine me inside you. Seven. Fucking you so hard. Eight. Just going at you. Nine. Using you like the slut you are.”

He could see Ronnie was close. Could he get him over the top like this? “Ten,” he snarled, pinching cruelly and mouthing his shoulder, letting his teeth sink slightly into tender flesh. “Come now, you dirty little slut.” His tongue snaked into Ronnie’s ear, and that did the trick. The boy’s mouth went slack, his eyes glazed over, his cock jerked and then a full body spasm overtook him.

“Oh,” breathed Ronnie. He met Harvey’s eyes in the mirror with a look of amazement. He was still hard, so Harvey relented and took pity on him, reaching down to jerk him off a few times. Ronnie went wild then, howling and pressing his head back against the chair. Harvey stroked him through his orgasm, unable to take his gaze from the mirror the entire time.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and they boy only whimpered in response.

 

Harvey had Ronnie on his hands and knees, on Jake’s bed. The butt plug had come out earlier, and now Harvey thrust in, meeting no resistance. “Hold onto the headboard,” he ordered.

Ronnie reached for the smooth wood and took hold, raising his upper body. Harvey knelt up and maneuvered Ronnie on top of him, so he was practically sitting on his lap.

“Now fuck yourself on me. Hard and fast as you can.”

Ronnie did his best. Harvey could see the effort in the way he sucked his lower lip into his mouth, and the shaking in his back and thighs as he raised up and down, achieving a bouncy motion that had Harvey moaning and biting his own lip. He wrapped his arms around the slender torso, holding him tight and guiding him. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

Eventually, though, he needed more. His hands joined Ronnie’s on the headboard, and he thrust up every time Ronnie bore down. They rutted together like this for long minutes, Harvey’s chest sliding against Ronnie’s sweat-damp back. “Boy, you have the sweetest ass,” he groaned, speeding his hips, slamming into the tight, welcoming heat, over and over.

He could see that Ronnie was hard again, and as his own hips stuttered and he started to come, he reached down and once more jerked the boy to completion. They came together, Harvey cursing and groaning, and Ronnie letting out the high-pitched squeal that Harvey had begun to recognize as uniquely his.

Once he’d pulled out and disposed of the condom, Harvey dragged Ronnie into the shower and cleaned them both up. He even dried the boy off, since he seemed to expect this pampering, standing passively in the middle of the bathroom until Harvey picked up a towel and went to work on him, at which point he sighed contentedly. That little sigh had an unexpected effect on Harvey. Ronnie’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t see the scowl on Harvey’s face. The sex had been great, but this was all becoming a bit too intimate for his liking.

Which was why, after they were both dried off, and Harvey had put on pajama pants and t-shirt, he attempted to make it clear that he would sleep in the guest room, while Ronnie took Jake’s bed.

Ronnie, it turned out, was impossibly cute when he pouted. “Please, sir. I don’t like to sleep alone.”

“Well, I do, and I’m filling in for Jake as your Dom, so….”

“But that’s just it. We scened together. This is part of the aftercare.”

Jake had never mentioned that. In fact, Harvey could not recall Jake ever bestowing much aftercare on _him_ after their scenes together. Ronnie sounded definite, though. Harvey put a finger under the boy’s chin and lifted his face so they were looking one another in the eye. “I’ll come sleep with you, but you have to tell me that you understand that _this – ”_ He waved a had between the two of them. “This is not a relationship. I mean, other than a Dom/sub relationship, obviously. What I’m trying to say is, don’t get attached to me.”

A giggle from Ronnie, quickly stifled. “Don’t worry, Harvey. I mean, I like you. And you fuck like a goddamn racehorse. My ass is yours wherever and whenever you want it. But I’m holding out for someone else. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Harvey was almost positive he was referring to Jake. He knew Jake’s feelings on love and relationships, however, and didn’t believe Ronnie stood a chance. He didn’t say any of that out loud. That was between Jake and Ronnie.

Satisfied that Ronnie was apparently immune to his charm, Harvey joined him in Jake’s bed. And it was nice, he had to admit, have a warm body to hold all night long. He could get used to this. He vowed he wouldn’t, though. Once Jake came back, he’d go back to his solitary bed. (He resolutely refused to think of it as his “lonely” bed. “Solitary” sound so much better.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this one took a while. It gave me all kinds of trouble. Sorry for the wait.

Friday morning, Harvey's first clue to Jake's earlier than expected return came when the bedroom lights clicked on. Ronnie whined, winding his tentacles more tightly around Harvey's middle. He had been clinging to him like a deranged squid all night long. Harvey resisted the urge to fend him off with a well-placed elbow.

"My, my, that is a pretty sight," said Jake. "You two look cozy."

Harvey had not yet opened his eyes, but from the sounds Jake was making, he deduced that he had rolled a suitcase into the bedroom with him, and was rapidly shedding clothes. "Time is it?" grumbled Harvey into the pillow.

"Nearly five. Go back to sleep, but maybe make some room for me before you do."

Harvey groaned and sat up, squinting and dislodging Ronnie as he did so. "Take my spot. I need to get up anyway."

"Early meeting?"

"Yeah." He took a good look at Jake, who was naked, and appeared uncharacteristically tired and out of sorts. "Good trip?" he asked, voice skeptical.

"Not really. It rained the first two days, which made the installation trickier than it should have been. I finally decided that, fuck it, the crew in San Diego can finish it themselves. With luck, they'll follow my instructions well enough that I won't have to fly back in two weeks and stomp on any necks."

Harvey grunted, having followed maybe half of what Jake had said. He got up and headed to the bathroom, shadowed by Jake. "Boundaries?" he suggested, all too aware that Jake possessed none -- or none that Harvey had noticed so far. He took care of his business while Jake stood by with arms crossed, frowning thoughtfully in Harvey's general direction.

"Things went well with the boy, I take it?"

"Fantastic. I rode him hard, and put him away wet."

"You'd better be making a joke. You do know I intend to quiz him, right?"

Harvey had picked up his straight razor, and now set it down and turned to face Jake. "It went well. I behaved myself, followed all your rules, and we enjoyed it, both in our own way. By the way, you do realize he's head or heels in love with you, right?"

"Of course," said Jake with a careless shrug. "Right on schedule, too. Don't tell me you're not?"

With a disbelieving huff, Harvey reached for the razor, only to have it plucked from his hand. "Jake …”

"Harvey." He flipped the razor open and dispensed a mound of shaving cream into the palm of his hand, then gave Harvey an expectant look.

Harvey shook his head. "Hell no. You're crazy if you think I'm letting you anywhere near me with that thing."

A curious head tilt from Jake. "Do I detect a safeword about to fall from your lips?"

Harvey considered it, but then shook his head. "No. I just question the shaving skills of a man who wears a beard."

"Better stop talking then, or my hand might slip." Holding out the hand grasping the razor, Jake revealed a strong tremor that Harvey was ninety-nine percent certain was faked.

"It's way too early in the day for this shit," Harvey groused. Jake didn't budge, so Harvey took a deep, fortifying breath and tipped his chin up slightly, giving the other man access.

Using short, precise movements, Jake covered Harvey's lower face and neck with shaving cream, performing the simple task as if it were the most important thing in the world. When Jake held the razor to his face, Harvey resisted the temptation to cringe or shut his eyes. He wasn't certain what lesson this was meant to teach him, but suspected that blocking out the sight of a sharp blade pressed to his vulnerable flesh would not be part of Jake's curriculum.

He stood passively, let Jake move him half a step backwards, trapping him against the counter, thick legs pressed to his, and found himself on the receiving end of a nerve-wracking, thorough, close, and ultimately uneventful shave. Harvey held himself still, but didn't relax until Jake grabbed a hand towel and wiped his face clean. "Arms up," Jake ordered, and stripped Harvey's t-shirt up and off.

Harvey arched an eyebrow, slipping both thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants. Jake nodded, and Harvey pushed the pants down and stepped out of them. “If you plan to shave me anywhere else … “ he warned.

“I hadn't considered it, but now …”

Deciding that changing the subject was his best course of action, Harvey gestured at the shower. “Any objections? I really do need to get moving.”

“None at all.” He nudged Harvey out of the way and turned on the water, tested the temperature, and stepped inside, thrusting his head underneath the pulsing water to wet down his hair. Without bothering to open his eyes, he growled, “Get in here, boy.”

Keeping his opinions about Jake’s odd mood to himself, Harvey stepped into the shower and closed the door. Jake hauled him close with an arm around his middle, and dragged him underneath the water. For a brief, heart-stopping instant, Harvey feared that Jake intended to kiss him. Instead, he wrapped a second arm around him and held him in a tight hug.

“Uh,” said Harvey. “This is nice, but … “

“But what?” He nuzzled Harvey’s hair.

“But if you needed a hug, you could have just asked.”

“It's not a hug that I need. I haven’t heard a single ‘sir’ out of you since I got home.”

It was true, Harvey realized. Just the same, he couldn’t stop the sigh that gusted out of him. “I guess …” he muttered, the words muffled against Jake’s neck. “ … different mindset.”

“You’re still my sub, so let’s get you back to thinking that way.” He let go of Harvey and held his massive arms out to the sides. “I stink of airplane. Wash your tired old Dom.”

Harvey tucked his lips together to prevent his amusement from showing. “Yes, sir.” He squirted a blob of Jake’s botanical shower gel into his hand, lathered up, and began running his hands over Jake’s hard body. The feel of Jake's warm masculine flesh didn’t turn him on (much), but he did enjoy the sensation. It surprised him to realize that even more than the pleasure of touch, the simple act of serving his Dom brought a spreading sense of peace. This was a different type of service – a different sort of submission – than Jake had demanded of him thus far, but he found it strangely satisfying.

By the soft grunts of approval Jake was making, he found it satisfying as well. They finished their shower in near silence broken only by the sound of water, and of wet skin sliding soapily over wet skin. When Harvey had finished washing every inch of Jake’s body, he found the favor returned with equal thoroughness. The pleasurable intimacy of the moment could have easily tipped over into sexual, but didn’t.

Out of the shower, they took turns drying one another off. Jake followed him to the guest room, where Harvey still kept his clothes. He watched in silence for a minute or two as Harvey got dressed.

“Can you make an early evening of it at work?” asked Jake.

Harvey fastened his trousers and reached for a shirt. “I can try. I might have to go in for a couple of hours tomorrow to make it up. Why? You have something planned?”

“I think it’s time to take you back to _Payne_ and show you off a little.”

“Which means what, exactly?”

“Probably precisely what you’re thinking. We can go over the details tonight, but I intend to reserve one of the semi-private rooms. You're okay with an audience, correct?”

Harvey’s hands paused in the act of tucking in his shirt. “Yes, sir.” He’d thought about it countless times since Jake had brought up the subject on their visit to the club, and the idea had become firmly lodged on his fantasy “to do” list.

Jake gave a satisfied nod. “Good. That’s all I’ll say for now.” His mouth suddenly opened in a jaw-cracking yawn. “Okay, Harvard boy. Go. Earn some money. Destroy some lives.”

“I don’t – ”

“As for me, I have a sweet, warm body waiting for me in bed. I intend to find out whether or not you left him in working order.”

Harvey shook his head, but resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “He’s fine.” He gave a short laugh and grimaced. “What’s with that squeal, though?”

Jake paused in the doorway. “You got him to squeal? You’re doing it right, then. Good to know.” He flashed his pirate grin, and was gone.

 

******

 

Going about his day with the promise of a visit to _Payne_ hanging over him had Harvey distracted, to say the least.   If not for Donna handing him the correct files, and reminding him of appointment times, the day might have devolved into disaster. As it was, he received more than one funny look from a client whose question had gone unanswered for too long.

When he got to Jake's place that evening, he was surprised to discover that dinner -- what there was of it -- had already been prepared by Jake. "Nothing heavy before our scene," he explained to Harvey. "You'll thank me later."

Not that Jake allowed anything "heavy" to ever grace his table. Harvey already missed the cholesterol laden meals that Ronnie had prepared for him at his insistence. As he considered it, he decided that Ronnie had probably snitched on him. Maybe the gelatinous green smoothie Jake allowed him now was punishment for his culinary crimes earlier in the week. Totally worth it, though.

After dinner, Jake sent him off to shower by himself, but arrived in the bathroom in time to towel him dry.

"Have you ever had any inner ear problems?" Jake asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"What? No." The corner of a damp towel whipped him on the ass, making him jump. "No, sir," he amended.

"Any other physical problems I should be aware of?"

Harvey wasn't sure he liked Jake's questions, or rather what they implied. What did he have planned for tonight? "Healthy as a horse, as you well know. Oh, except for the trick elbow. It only acts up when I try to throw a fastball, and occasionally when it gets cold out."

"Do you have any objections to public nudity?"

Did he? He'd never considered himself to be a modest person. He had been wildly uninhibited during his drinking days, but sober? The thought of exposing himself at _Payne_ gave him pause, but it did not send him into a panic, so he shook his head. "No, sir. No objections."

"Good to know. Come on. I want to show you something." Jake grabbed Harvey's arm and steered him into the master bedroom. He left him standing in the middle of the room while he retrieved something from his dresser. When he turned and showed Harvey what he held in his hand, his mouth went dry.

A leather collar and leash.

Harvey knew his eyes had widened. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he struggled with what to say.

"This isn't a declaration or a proposal," Jake explained, putting one of Harvey's worries to rest.

"So, it's just … "

"Just me, indulging myself. And you, doing whatever the hell I say, like a good little sub. Oh, and there's one other thing." He tossed collar and leash onto the bed and lifted a scrap of shiny black material. "I’m considering having you wear this. What do you think?"

Harvey peered more closely. "Is that a thong?"

"Can't get anything past that sharp legal mind. Let's see how it looks on you." He squatted down behind Harvey. "Lift your foot. Harvey? I said lift your foot. Now the other one." He slid the bit of fabric up Harvey's legs and thighs, tucking him into the front pouch and maneuvering the thin thong portion between his ass cheeks. He stood him in front of the mirror and let him watch while he fastened the collar around his neck and attached the leash. "What do you think?" he repeated when he was finished.

Harvey looked into the mirror and saw a stranger staring back at him. "I don't know."

"No objections? No opinions whatsoever? That’s not like the Harvey I thought I knew. Stop rolling your eyes before you begin to seriously piss me off. Okay. I want to see what you look like on your hands and knees."

The heat started in Harvey's face and spread through his entire body as it sunk in that people were going to see him like this. Despite the heat that suffused him, his joints and muscles and bones all seemed to have frozen and locked in place.

"Harvey?" Jake's voice penetrated the fog, soft and questioning.

He tightened his jaw, swallowed hard, bent one knee, then the other, and sank to the floor. Halfway there. A beseeching look at Jake brought him only a nod and a hand gesture encouraging him to continue. Grimacing, he folded himself in half and braced his palms on the floor. It was tempting to bark, to make a joke of it, but nothing about it seemed funny to him. He studied himself in the mirror, gaze tracing the leash to the other end, where Jake had it wrapped around his fist. An odd feeling blossomed in his belly at the sight.

"How do you feel?" asked Jake.

"Like … " He sighed.   "Isn't it enough that I'm doing this? Do I have to dissect my feelings right now?"

"You can't tell me how you feel? Or you won't?"

"Wouldn't this be more in Ronnie's wheelhouse?"

"Harvey." Jake spoke his name like a warning, irritation creeping into his voice. "Either you're submitting or you're not. Give me a safeword, or stop fighting me." He waited, never taking his eyes off of Harvey's face.

Harvey sat back on his heels and eyed his reflection in the mirror, debating whether he could go through with this. "I feel like I'm having an out of body experience," he finally said quietly. "This isn't real. That's not me in the mirror. I don't know who that is."

"It’s still you. No matter what, it’s always still you.” Standing behind Harvey, he set a hand on his shoulder. “Do you know why we're doing this?"

"To bring me down? To break me down?" He gave a scoffing laugh. "To break me down so you can build me back up?"

"I think you're mistaking me for a drill sergeant."

"An understandable mistake." Harvey knew he made a ridiculous picture, kneeling there in next to nothing and arguing like a petulant child.

Jake wrapped the leash a few more times around his fist and dropped to his haunches in front of Harvey, putting just enough pressure on his throat to cause mild discomfort. His voice was soft, the barest of rasps. "Let's be real clear here. I am not your drill sergeant, Harvey. And you seem to have lost sight of why we're doing this. Higher power here, remember?”

Jake ran a hand down the side of Harvey’s neck and rested it on his shoulder. “Maybe it would help to clarify things if you were to just go ahead and consider me your god. I can be a merciful god, or I can be a vengeful god. You get to decide which one you want to see tonight." He tightened the leash, drawing Harvey's head back, and stroked a finger along the front of the collar. "What's it going to be? Decide. Now."

As Harvey met Jakes unflinching gaze, some kind of shift took place inside of him. It wasn’t a major seismic event, more like a trickle of pebbles sliding down an incline, a tiny, barely perceptible change, but one that brought everything into place, exactly where it needed to be. He bowed his head and relaxed his rigid posture. "Tell me what to do, Sir. I'm yours."

 

******

 

Jake did not require Harvey to crawl at _Payne_ after all, not right away _._ Neither did he require him to wear the thong. He left the collar on, though, and led him through the crowded room wearing nothing but a pair of tight black briefs. Being Jake, he didn’t explain the change of plans. Harvey chose to believe this was the “mercy” Jake had promised.

Still, even upright and slightly more covered than he’d anticipated, Harvey fought against creeping embarrassment. The odds were small, but not impossible, that he could run into someone he knew here. This possibility made him far more anxious than showing a little skin, or being led by a leash in a room where the same exact thing was happening everywhere he looked. Most of the other subs wore less than he did, and he was faintly amused to realize that he might have blended in more in the thong.  

Jake found them a table, and they spent perhaps an hour there. Harvey knelt in perfect form beside Jake’s table while a steady stream of members stopped by to chat with Jake and both comment on and critique his newest sub. Once, Harvey might have minded being left out of the conversation like he was now. Passivity in a social gathering was a novelty for him. As the night wore on, he found he didn’t mind so much. He’d spent most of that day talking and arguing and negotiating for one thing or another. It felt surprisingly restful to pass the time with no obligations or responsibilities beyond kneeling there next to Jake, being petted or given a reassuring squeeze every so often.

When Jake finally signaled that he was ready to move upstairs, Harvey blinked slowly up at him, having zoned out for an unknown length of time. His thoughts moved sluggishly and his head seemed filled with cotton.

Jake leaned down, speaking so that only Harvey would hear him. “Once we get upstairs, I want you on your hands and knees, crawling after me down the hallway. I want to see how deep I can get you tonight. No talking. And absolutely no hesitation or disobedience. My scenes generally attract a decent sized crowd. Your behavior, which will be closely scrutinized, is a direct reflection of me. Luckily for you, your task is simple. Submit. Full stop.”

With a hand resting against the side of Harvey’s face, his thumb stroked gently back and forth across his cheekbone. “There may be some moments of discomfort. I want you to trust me. Trust that I know what I’m doing, and that I would never allow any injury.” He held Harvey’s gaze, no trace of humor in his own for once. “Do you trust me?”

Did he? He nodded. He did trust Jake. He might be abrasive and insulting at times, but he’d also been patient and at times achingly kind. Harvey’s lips curved into a smile and he nodded again, more firmly this time. Jake rewarded him with a light pat to his cheek.

“Good boy. All right, on your feet.”

Harvey followed him past the bar and the docking station, and up the stairs, doing his best to walk at heel. They reached the second floor, and Harvey immediately dropped down to his hands and knees. Softer lighting than downstairs kept the hall dimly shadowed. Carpeting covered the floor, with thick padding underneath, for which his knees were grateful.

He crawled along easily, trying not to think, to simply focus on the feel of muscles working smoothly, biceps and haunches flexing and bunching and propelling him forward. _He would enjoy doing this naked_. The thought surfaced unexpectedly, and he gave his head a quick shake, trying to dispel it, but his arousal at the notion was all too obvious. Maybe if he and Jake were … going a different route with their relationship ... But they weren’t, and he could only believe that Jake knew exactly what he was doing.

Jake had asked him to trust him, and he would.

_Stop thinking so much._

They entered a room at the end of the hall. Jake turned on the lights, and then used a dimmer switch to bring them back down to perhaps half-strength. The room contained a St. Andrew’s cross, a sling bolted to the ceiling in the center of the room, and a narrow bed against one wall.

“Kneel up, boy.”

Harvey did, and Jake removed the leash, coiling it and setting it on a small shelf near the door.

“Here is how this is going to go. First I’m going to put you against the cross and work you over with a flogger until you’re nice and warmed up. Then I’m going to use a leather paddle on your ass until it’s hot and throbbing. After that, I’ll get you up in the sling, and we’ll have some fun. Or I’ll have some fun. How you take it remains to be seen. If you have questions at this point, you have my permission to speak. If not, shake your head no.”

Harvey considered for a moment before shaking his head. He was curious, but not concerned over Jake’s choice of words. Harvey felt confident that he’d already survived Jake’s worst, and had nothing to worry about tonight.

He should have known Jake better than that by now.

Jake had conveniently forgotten to mention the tight leather hood he’d intended to put over Harvey’s head, rendering him blind. He’d been blindfolded before, though. He could handle this. Although snug, the hood was constructed so that his breathing was not obstructed. He experienced his first twinge of alarm when foam earplugs were stuffed in his ears, which were then covered by leather flaps which zipped into the hood.

This was disconcerting. Harvey knelt on the floor, blind, nearly deaf and completely dependent on Jake. _Stay calm,_ he lectured himself.

A hand under his arm urged him to stand, and led him across the room, where Jake helped Harvey step out of his briefs and restrained him at wrists and ankles to the cross. Unable to hear Jake’s movements behind him, Harvey had no warning, and when the flogger struck him the first time, he cried out in surprise. He settled down after that, and perhaps Jake was still in merciful god mode, because he paced his strikes regularly enough that Harvey could anticipate them. Unfortunately anticipation had the side effect of tensing him up. As a result, the tails stung more than usual, and he growled under his breath, teeth grinding together.

A hand stroked down his back while a second one squeezed his shoulder, wordlessly instructing him to relax. Harvey drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, telling himself to let go and take it. He knew how this worked by now. He knew what to do. The flogger fell again, thudding against his bottom. He let the cross take his weight, sagging against it.

With sight and hearing gone, physical sensation blossomed, taking on extra importance. His head felt hot and sweaty inside the hood. His shoulders and ass tingled from the flogger, and his cock bobbed heavily between his legs.

He wondered if they were being watched yet, if a crowd jockeyed for position, angling for a better view. The possibility brought a confusing mix of emotion – embarrassment, excitement, and the determination to make Jake proud of him, to earn a few words of praise from his Dom. He tried to still his mind and exist in the moment while the flogging went on and on, vibrating through him, heating him up.

And then it stopped. The only thing Harvey could hear – or imagined that he heard – were his own panting breaths, whispering underneath the hood like thunder, or the distant crash of the ocean. He searched again for calm, striving to bring his breathing back under control.

Jake’s hand touched his back, fingertips testing and exploring, drifting down to his bottom. Faint vibrations travelled through Jake’s arm into Harvey, and he guessed that he was speaking soothing words, perhaps forgetting that Harvey couldn’t hear him. He moved away again, and Harvey braced himself for round two.

Apparently choosing to give Harvey warning this time, Jake lay the leather paddle against Harvey’s bottom, gave him a light tap, and seconds later the first strike landed. He continued for long minutes landing strike after heavy, stinging strike.

Blind and deaf, Harvey effectively had only his sense of touch to ground him in the world, which narrowed down to spiraling pain, spreading heat, and the jarring force of Jake’s hits. He floated in darkness, nothing more than a thing for Jake’s amusement and pleasure, nothing to distract him from his suffering. He knew he screamed, because his chest and head vibrated, and a muffled roar filled the tight darkness within the hood. His hands curled, seeking something solid to push back at, but finding only empty air due to the manner in which Jake had restrained him.

A familiar feeling of time falling away washed through him and his experience of the world narrowed down to the smack of the paddle against his backside. He wanted to be consumed by it, absorbed into it, but his mind doggedly strove to analyze and understand, as if some new, secret language was being communicated to him.

_God. Ah, god. Please._

Had he said it out loud? He had no idea, but the beating stopped. He flinched when the bottom of the hood was worked up and out of the way so he could drink greedily. When he was finished, Jake worked the hood back into place. He repeated his non-verbal warning from before, giving Harvey one light tap before resuming the paddling.

It went on for a long time. At some point, between one strike and the next, the gears seemed to slip again. Harvey Specter ceased to matter. The flat smack of leather on tender heated flesh filled his universe to the exclusion of anything else. His head felt weightless, empty of thought, his chest empty of fear.

 

******

 

He could hear again.

"I'm going to remove the hood," Jake murmured in his ear. He peeled it from his head, and Harvey blinked. Even the dim light felt as if it stabbed into his eyeballs. He closed his eyes again and Jake petted his head, stroking damp hair off his forehead. "I have a blindfold for you when I get you up on the sling." He helped Harvey drink more water. "I've asked a friend to help me get you situated. Is that all right? He'll be touching you, but only for a short while."

Harvey hummed and nodded his assent.

"Let us do all the work. Keep your eyes closed if it helps retain your headspace. Do you understand?"

Another nod.

He didn't want to reconnect with the world just yet. He let Jake and the other nameless set of hands lift and position and restrain him. He was off the ground and it felt like he was floating. He squinted one eye open to see that he'd been placed in the sling. His arms stretched out over his head, and his legs splayed wide apart, just to the point of discomfort. The sling swayed slightly. He swallowed hard, and had a brief impression of bodies pressing into the room before Jake slipped the blindfold over his head.

"You're going to feel movement," said Jake's disembodied voice. "Stay relaxed. Stay down wherever you are right now." He stroked Harvey's head, and face, and neck. "You're so beautiful like this." He moved away and Harvey shivered, causing the swing to sway again.

His legs began to raise, up and up, until they were stretched above him and his head, he was certain, hovered just above the floor. He was breathing faster now, and moved restlessly, growing nervous.

"You're safe, boy," said Jake, suddenly nearby again. "I won't let anything happen to you."

The sling moved again. Harvey's equilibrium, already scrambled, went completely haywire as his feet came down and he reversed positions. Without meaning to, he struggled against the restraints, head swiveling one way and then the other as his covered eyes searched uselessly for a reference point. Strong hands soothed him and he grew still.

After that, the shifts continued smoothly and without pause. One minute he was upright, the next he was lying first on one side, and then the other. At one point, it felt like he was stretched out at all four corners, facing the floor. If there were watchers, they remained silent. He may as well have been wearing the earplugs still. His body moved and contorted through space which was dark and silent. His knees pressed to his chest, and he was pulled apart, legs straight out and arms twisted one around the other.

He reached a point where he no long felt the sling, or the restraints. His body seemed to move to the silent commands or whims of an invisible power. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t change it or predict his next position. Occasional stabs of fear penetrated his fog when he hung nearly upside down, feeling as if he might crash to the floor any second. He never did, though. The invisible power kept him safe. Eventually, he stopped struggling and second-guessing and gave his body over to the invisible power to move as it would.

 

******

 

“Open your eyes, boy.”

Harvey obeyed, blinking slowly, and found himself face down on a bed, in the room at _Payne_. The lights had been turned down lower, and the door was closed. Jake sat on the floor next to the bed, rubbing gentle circles into Harvey’s back.

“Hi,” said Harvey. “How –”

“Hush. No talking for the rest of the night. I like you this way, all sleepy and loose-limbed. I think you needed this, even more than either of us realized.”

Harvey nodded and burrowed his head further into the pillows.

“Dinner is on the way. I’m going to feed you here, and then we’ll get you dressed and head home. For now, lie still while I rub some lotion on you.” His thick fingers worked into Harvey’s sore, still-heated flesh. “Oh, this is a pretty shade of red,” Jake murmured. “You did so well tonight. I’m proud of you.”

The words of praise did strange things to Harvey’s insides. Another time, he might have recoiled from the warm feelings, but now he accepted them, allowing them to work their way into him and soothe all of the angry, lonely, bitter places inside of him.

A soft knock on the door signaled the arrival of food. Jake hadn’t been kidding when he said he would feed Harvey. He helped him sit up, leaning back against the headboard, and held bites of the toasted club sandwich and thick, garlicky, homemade potato chips to his lips, leaving him no choice but to accept the pampering and eat the food. It was no hardship. The food was delicious, and Harvey discovered that he was ravenous. Jake even allowed him a thick chocolate shake, regulating his sips so that he wouldn’t get too greedy and give himself a headache.

When the food was gone, Jake leaned down and gave Harvey a tender, chaste kiss on his lips. “I had them bring up your clothes. You ready to leave? You can sleep for a while if you prefer. I have the room for a few more hours. Nod yes if you’re ready to leave.”

He wasn’t, Harvey was surprised to realize. He didn’t want to move and risk breaking the spell of what had happened tonight. He felt safe and cared for and like all of the bullshit out there in the world did not matter – would not matter as long as he stayed here. So he shook his head no. Jake smiled at him, brushing his hair back off of his forehead.

“All right,” he whispered to Harvey. He climbed over him onto the bed and settled in behind him, pulling his close with an arm around his middle. “I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

Harvey barely heard the last of the sentence as he slid into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a bad thing. Flag on the play! Spoiler/”warning” in the end notes.

"Jessica wants to see you in her office. Something to do with Martin Industries."

Harvey didn't have a chance to sit down before Donna made the announcement.

"What now?"

Donna only arched an eyebrow as if to say, _oh, you know very well what._

He had some idea, and his stomach tightened in anticipation of the impending confrontation. He'd taken Lyle Martin to lunch yesterday without clearing it with either Jessica or Louis. He'd managed to convince Lyle that Harvey was the best choice to handle their merger, and Lyle had apparently not waited for Harvey to break the news, as he’d planned to do, but had already spoken to Jessica. Or Louis. Either way, Harvey figured he was in for yet another tongue lashing.

"Fine. If I'm not back in half an hour, I bequeath my Amex card to you."

"Don't be such a baby. Maybe it's good news."

He grunted and headed down the hall to Jessica's office.

"Harvey," she greeted him in a neutral voice which somehow managed to sound ominous.

"Jessica, I can explain."

"Be quiet."

His mouth snapped shut.

"Come in, sit down, and just listen to me."

The urge to drop to his knees at her tone of command came over him so strongly that sweat broke out on his forehead. He controlled the impulse, but it was a near thing. He sat on her couch, trying, but probably failing, to appear relaxed and in firm control of his emotions.

"Lyle Martin called me," she began.

Harvey's mouth twitched with the urge to defend himself, but he obeyed her orders.

"You went behind Louis's back, and more importantly, you went behind my back, which could have potentially undermined our position with the client."

She'd said "potentially," which Harvey took as a hopeful sign.

"Luckily for us," she continued, "whatever you said to him has had the opposite effect. He wants to transfer more of their work to us, with you as the lead attorney." She paused to give him a smile, but held up a finger to keep him silent. "That was some nice work, Harvey. I normally don't allow my attorneys that sort of latitude, even the partners. You, however, have shown me that you're ready."

"Ready?"

A low laugh. "For me to release you back into the wild, so to speak. Welcome back to the game, Harvey.”

He wasn't sure if he should be pleased or insulted by the implication that he'd ever been _out_ of the game. Had he gotten that bad? He forced a smile to his face and stood up, searching his mind for something safe to say in response. Finally he settled on the bland, "I appreciate your patience," and made his escape.

When he got back to his office, his face must have shown his residual stress from the encounter with Jessica.

"Did Mommy spank you? Oh, wait, that would be -- "

"Donna, don't. I'm not in the mood right now." He sat at his desk, scowling as Donna followed him into the room.

"That bad?" she goaded. "Do we still have a job?"

"Yes." He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. "It was fine. She only wanted to congratulate me for picking up where I left off. I think that’s good, isn’t it?"

"I’d say so."

Something in her tone of voice made him open his eyes and take a close look at her. "What?"

"Ah. Just something I've been working on." She seemed to hesitate before moving closer. He saw now that she held an envelope in her hand.

Harvey sucked in a quick breath. "Donna, that had better not be a resignation letter."

"Oh, calm down. It's not. I made it this far with you. Why would I quit now?"

She hesitated again, and Harvey grew uneasy. This was so unlike confident Donna, who always knew what to do and what to say, and never minced words. "Donna, just sit down and say what you have to say to me."

She sat, fiddling with the envelope for a few seconds. "I never told you this, but I started attending meetings even before your big meltdown.”

“Meetings?”

“Al-Anon. For co-dependents."

Harvey's mood dropped even lower. "It was that bad for you? I was that bad?"

"You weren't great. But it was more than that, so wipe that guilty look off your face. I actually have issues going all the way back to childhood. My father drank a lot. And my younger brother has followed in his footsteps, except with drugs."

"God, Donna, I'm sorry."

She waved a hand around, as if to bat away his apologies. "Yeah, yeah. Save it for step nine."

He could not immediately recall that step, and his confusion must have shown on his face.

"Making amends," Donna clarified. She laid the envelope on his desk, but placed a hand over it to keep it in place. "My sponsor -- "

"You even have a sponsor?"

"Sure. Nothing like yours, though. She told me that when her husband was in rehab, she was asked to write a letter to him, telling him how his drinking had hurt her, and detailing at least one specific incident. She said it helped with some of the lingering anger and resentment."

"Just some?"

"Yes. Apparently those feelings do not simply go away."

Harvey's stomach spasmed, making him regret the two cups of coffee he'd had before he left Jake's place. He gestured toward the envelope. "That's your letter to me, I take it?"

She nodded. "Believe me, it was not fun putting some of that down on paper. I'd appreciate if you waited until you're at home to read it. Don't feel the need to discuss it with me later. This is just me, purging some of the poison." She smiled sourly. "You purge your way, and I purge mine." She nudged the envelope across the desk to him.

Harvey stared down at it, as if it might sprout teeth any second and leap up to rip his throat out. "Thank you," he forced himself to say. "I'll read it tonight." The thought of that reading filled him with dread and shame, but he pushed all of that down. He needed to get on with his day, and not make Jessica regret her newfound faith in him.

 

******

 

_Dear Harvey, first of all, let me say that I've never regretted coming to work for you. I saw in you a potential for greatness, and my talents must never go to waste, right? (Just a speck of humor before I get to the gut-wrenching heart of the matter.)_

_The last couple years have not been easy ones. I remember our days back at the DA's office, and all of that promise you showed. You were the best they had, and I like to think I was at least partially responsible for that._

_For a long time, I blamed myself for the irresponsible behavior that began to crop up more and more often once we moved to Pearson Hardman. The meetings I've been attending have finally made me face the fact that I didn't cause, can't control it, can't cure it -- the 'it' being you. 'The Three C's.' Number two kind of invalidates my entire approach to life, doesn't it? That's my stuff, though._

_Let's talk about your stuff. God, this is hard. Denial is so much easier. Well, I'll just throw it out there: you were an asshole, and you treated me like shit._

_You'd become damn good at covering, but I could always tell when you were drinking. Did you believe that being cutting and cruel also made you edgy and more attractive? I hate to break it to you, but Bad Boy Syndrome is a myth._

_You hit on me like you thought you were James Bond, and I was some fucking aging Moneypenny who would welcome your attentions as charity. Newsflash: I've had plenty of wholly satisfying relationships these last years, all of them lasting more than one night. (Unlike you, I'll point out needlessly.) I chose not to rub your nose in it, not because I believed you deserved the courtesy, but because my private life is exactly that -- private._

_You forced me to cover for you so many times when you couldn't make in until noon, or your lunch hour stretched to two hours, or three, or all afternoon. I'm not sure what the precise cut-off age is at which binge drinking and days-long benders can no longer be dismissed as youthful indiscretions and crazy frat boy behavior, but you passed it long, long ago._

_Not to put too fine a point on it, but for the last three years, you were an embarrassment. Did you know my sister begged me to bring my niece to work for 'Take Your Daughter to Work Day'? Three years in a row, I concocted a lame excuse. We were getting ready for trial. The floor was under renovation. I had the flu._

_I detest lying, but I did it for you. That's what enablers do. We ease the way for you guys, running along beside you to remove the expensive vases, and hide the pointy objects, and steer you in the right direction while you Frankenstein walk your way through life, flattening the village._

_Part of this exercise is to detail one particular incident where your drinking affected me. I think we both know which one I'll choose. Maybe you don't remember all of the details, but it started at last year's firm Holiday Party._

_You clearly did not want to be there. You were drinking steadily, tormenting Louis, ratcheting up the insults and snide remarks. Louis can be a pain in the ass, but he didn't deserve that. Even though I wanted to stick around, I did my usual Harvey wrangling and convinced you to duck out early to hit a jazz club or two. It turned out to be more like three or four or more. When we got kicked out of number four (do you even remember the ridiculous fight you picked with that woman?), I begged you to take me home, but you insisted on dragging me to yet another club, this one in a questionable neighborhood._

_You were totally shit-faced by then. It's unlikely that you remember all of the things you were saying to me while the band played their gorgeous, heartbreaking blues just a few feet away from us. The music nearly deafened me, but I heard every ugly word you said about me playing the professional virgin, and adopting hundreds of cats (were you mistaking me for Louis?) and why didn't I just match-dot-com my way into a relationship so I could indulge in some boring, obligatory sex and breed up a few boring, obligatory kids so that you could hire yourself a younger, sexier, blonder version of me who would actually put out?_

_Ringing any bells?_

_There's precious little crying in Donna World, but I shed a few lakes over that bullshit. I may be as angry about the tears as I am about the things you said, and the fact that you picked up that pencil-necked kid who barely looked legal and took off with him, leaving me there to fend for myself._

_Did you even stop for one second to wonder why I called in sick the next three days? I was polishing up my resume and making inquiry calls. It was more of an exercise than anything else. If I'd wanted to leave, you can bet I would have. I stayed partly out of loyalty, and partly out of curiosity to see how and when you would hit bottom. That was when I decided I couldn't do it anymore, this enabling and fixing and clearing of your path. Do you think it's a coincidence that it all began to unravel for you not long after that?_

_That was one incident. Multiply that by perhaps once or twice a month, for most of the years I've known you. It’s been one fucked up, bumpy road we’ve traveled._

_I'm happy that you quit drinking. I'm happy for you, and hopeful that we can eventually become the awesome team we once were, and maybe even be friends again. It's going to take time, though, to build that trust back up. I don't know how much time, but I do know that today, right now, trust is still virtually nonexistent. For your sake, I hope your unconventional path to recovery succeeds. I also hope you know I still want nothing but good things for you._

_At the same time, I have this toxic reservoir of resentment living inside of me. It’s enormous, and some days I fear I’ll choke on it. That is my issue to work through and past. I hope I get there. I hope you get there. Wherever 'there' is -- Grownup Land, maybe?_

_Please respect that I'd prefer not to discuss this letter with you. Not for a long time, anyway. Just maybe try to get how much your behavior hurt me, and do better._

_-Donna._

 

******

 

Harvey was in the kitchen preparing dinner when Jake came home. He must have been frowning because Jake paused in the middle of sorting his mail, stared intently at the side of Harvey's face and asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Sure. No. Yes. I don't know."

"Huh. That clears things up. Want to talk about it?"

Harvey concentrated on tossing the salad, stopping to pick up some scattered lettuce leaves and sliced radishes from the counter and throw them back in the bowl. He'd spent the last half hour debating whether or not to show Donna's letter to Jake. He'd finally decided that it had disconcerted him enough that Jake probably needed to know about it. He jerked a thumb at the dining table, where the opened letter sat. "Donna -- that's my assistant -- gave me one of those 'here's the shit you pulled on me when you were drinking' letters."

"And now you're awash with feelings?"

Harvey laughed. "Pretty much. She writes an effective letter. Read it if you want. It's the usual sort of thing, I guess."

Jake picked up the letter and squinted at it, and then plucked his reading glasses out of his pocket and set them on his nose. "How would I know what's usual?"

"You went to rehab, right? You never got one of those letters?"

"Unlike you, I never had anyone care enough about me to take the time to write one." He said this with a level voice, but it made Harvey wonder what Jake's childhood had been like. Jake leaned one hip against the kitchen counter while he read the letter. "Ouch. The kitten has claws. No wonder you were scowling so hard when I came in."

"She mentioned something at work about step nine. Are we getting close to that?"

"Hardly." Jake folded up the letter and tossed it back on the table. "We've been working on getting you to accept me as your higher power. I've been debating moving on, but not until I'm convinced."

"Oh, come on. You know I do." Harvey paused as he reached into a cupboard for two dinner plates. "Although, I might be a polytheist. It's your fault, though."

"Maybe you'd better explain what you mean by that."

Harvey dumped salad on the plates and heaped edamame on top of each. "Oh, nothing much. I had a meeting with Jessica Pearson today, and damn near dropped to my knees when she started issuing orders." He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I may possibly be losing my mind. Does that happen often?"

"To you? No idea. To my other subs? Only in a good way."

"Jake … "

"Two things. One, you felt the urge to submit. Two, you didn't, because Jessica Pearson is not your Domme. I don't see any problems on either count. Any other questions? No? Good. Let's eat."

Harvey did not have much of an appetite, but he knew he was expected to eat the vile salad and drink the weird smoothie with parmesan cheese in it. He managed it by telling himself it was all just generic sustenance for his human machine, which helped, but didn't bring the taste any closer to a thick, juicy steak.

He assumed they were done with the topic of Donna's letter, but after dinner, when they'd moved to the play room, Jake brought it up again.

"How did it make you feel, reading about how you hurt Donna?"

Harvey knelt on the floor, the nipple clamps Jake had just attached making him sweat. "Like shit, obviously. Sir."

Jake clipped the end of a leash to the chain connecting the nipple clamps. "Do you think that's why she wrote it? To make you feel like shit? Hands and knees, please."

Harvey moved into the new position as he thought over Jake's question. "No. Not completely." He gave a wry laugh. "Maybe she was being her usual efficient self, anticipating my needs by briefing me on what amends I'll need to make to her."

"Do you really believe that? Go deeper, Harvey."

Harvey sighed, unconsciously pulling back against the leash to feel a sharp tug which made his nipples throb. " _Ah._ Shit. I hate these things. I suppose she needed to know that I knew how I'd hurt her, and that it was not okay.   And … maybe in part this was her way of showing me that I need a crystal clear view of myself and the past in order to move forward." _No matter how painful it was to relive his asshole behavior._

"That's a nice bit of insight."

"Is that where we're headed next? Making amends?"

"You sound eager to move along through the steps, but we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves. Let's talk about steps four through six."

He jerked the leash he held in one fist, sending another jolt of pain through Harvey. He twitched once, surprised by a sudden surge of arousal, but remained otherwise still.

"Can you recite those steps for me?"

_Great,_ though Harvey. _A pop quiz._ "Um, four is … uh, no. Guess not. Sorry, sir."

Jake grunted, and Harvey got that he wasn't angry, only mildly displeased. "These steps address your character defects, one of which, I see, is failure to pay attention. I'll give you the condensed version." He began counting off on his fingers. "Step four: list your defects. Step five: admit them to yourself and your higher power. Step six: humbly ask your higher power to remove said defects. Crawl."

It took Harvey's brain half a second to make the transition between Jake's mini-lecture and the terse order. He followed Jake around the room on his hands and knees, nipples throbbing under the clamps.

"I'll give you a few days to write up a list for me -- that's step four. I prefer to combine steps five and six in one extended 'come to Jesus' moment, or several of them, if that's what you need. You'll name off all of those defects in order of ascending magnitude, and your discipline increases in corresponding intensity. Wash, rinse and repeat for as long as it takes." He executed several consecutive ninety degree turns, causing Harvey to scramble to stay in position at his heel. "Questions?"

"Yes, sir. You said for as long as it takes. As long as what takes?"

"For as long as it takes for you to believe that you can change."

"Maybe I already believe that."

"If that's true, good for you. It will make things go faster. Just so you know, Lester does not approve of my methods in this case, and most everyone at our Saturday night meeting would urge you to find another sponsor. You're welcome to do that, of course. I've had a few subs who bolted at this point in the program." He stopped abruptly and ran his fingers through Harvey's hair. "Those who stayed never regretted it."

Harvey looked up at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Glad to hear it. Now, enough of this. I think you've got crawling on a leash down. Let's get you up on the cross. I have a new flogger I want to try out."

 

******

 

By Saturday, Harvey had managed to fill half a page with his character defects. As he read through what he had, he found himself frowning. So many of the traits he'd listed were things he'd always assumed made him the attorney that he was, and that Jessica wanted him to be. An equal number had developed directly as a result of his success.

Stretched out on his bed, he read through what he'd written. _Arrogance. Lack of empathy. Frequent impulse towards violence. Vanity. Often not a team player. Cold hearted. Quick to anger. Slow to forgive. Uncompromising. Obsessive need to exert will over all others. Obsessive need to be in control. Obsessive need to come out on top, no matter the cost or who was harmed in the process._

He stared down at the damning words, feeling depression creep in. Was he truly the miserable excuse for a person this list described?

Jake had gone to his studio for a few hours, leaving Harvey to complete his chores and work on his list. Deciding that he'd plumbed the murky depths of Harvey Reginald Specter as far as he could -- or as far as he could stand to – he tossed the list onto the nightstand and lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Could he change? Did he want to? On some level he remained worried that his ability to do his job effectively would be destroyed through the process of tinkering with his behavior. This could potentially transform him from a pit bull to a pussycat. A toothless pussycat. If that happened, he could always go into a different profession, he supposed. After mulling that over for a few minutes, he frowned. He couldn’t think of a single thing he’d rather do.

He didn't even want to be an attorney if it meant existing somewhere in the middle of the pack. If he couldn't be the best of the best, what was the point? He might be confused about a lot of things these days, but of this, he was absolutely certain.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he told himself that maybe the trick was to achieve some kind of balance, to find the sweet spot somewhere between despicable and ineffectual. He was afraid he'd strayed nearer to the former when he met with Lyle Martin, but if he hadn't, Jessica would still see him as the latter.

It hurt his head to keep running through all of the possibilities, as if a wheel in his brain kept spinning and spinning without ceasing, getting nowhere. Eventually he gave up and decided to find something that needed extensive cleaning in Jake's apartment, just to get his mind on something else. That should keep him busy until it was time to start on dinner, and after that they had their meeting to go to, followed by another trip to _Payne._

It amused him to realize that he looked forward to wearing Jake's collar again, and "going deep," as Jake called it. He looked forward to it because he knew it was a surefire way to shut up the obnoxious, fretful voices in his head.

 

******

 

"You seem particularly thoughtful tonight," said Jake. He stood at _Payne's_ bar, watching Ronnie swallow another man's dick to the root. They'd picked the boy up after their meeting, and Jake had led them into the club, both on leashes. He'd left Ronnie at the Docking Station, observing as several members availed themselves of his mouth. The man with him now was the third thus far. Harvey knelt at Jake's feet, wearing only tight black briefs.

Harvey shrugged, but Jake gave his leash a sharp tug, signaling that this would not suffice as a response. "I'm just … I don't know. It's not a simple thing, questioning every goddamn thing about your life." Jake was eyeing him closely and it was difficult not to squirm. Harvey looked away, and then back at Jake. "Ronnie's drawing quite the crowd, sir. How long do you think he can keep at it?"

"Until I release him." He grinned. "Would you like to give it a go? Maybe a little competition is in order."

"He'd win. Hands down. Or behind the back, in his case."

"You know …" Jake began, trailing off with an uncharacteristically uncertain look on his face.

"Do I know what?"

Jake stared down at him, lips pressed together and twitching back and forth as he considered his next words. "Bill Clinton claimed that a blow job was not sex. Do you remember all that?"

This was so out of the blue that Harvey remained speechless for several seconds. Then, "What?" he spat out, more loudly than he’d intended. "I mean, sorry, sir, but do you have a point?"

"Always. I'm thinking about our contract."

Understanding dawned, and Harvey's eyes widened. Was Jake asking, or suggesting, or hinting at what he thought he was? And was he serious, or only testing Harvey to see how he would react?

"Are you worried you couldn't handle me?" asked Jake without a trace of conceit.

"No, I'm not." He had to smile at the way Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Don't look so surprised. Just … college years." One time he'd accepted a bet that he couldn't take two cocks down his throat at once.   He'd won the bet. These days, with the image he tried to cultivate, he would never admit to how much he had enjoyed the challenge.

He shook off the memories and tried to answer Jake's real question. "I'm not exactly accustomed -- or wired, maybe -- for relationships that last more than a couple of hours. If you can even call them relationships. I enjoy a good fuck. I _prefer_ a spectacular fuck. I don't mind taking it up the ass occasionally. But I've signed on for six months with you. I have a lot at stake here, as you are well aware. If we violate the no sex clause in our contract, things could get messy."

"Only if we're doing it right."

Harvey felt the urge to laugh, but stopped himself, determined to keep the conversation serious. "I don't want to throw a wrench into what we've got going here. I have not doubts that it would be mutually satisfying, but things are complicated enough without having to worry about feelings."

"You're afraid you'll fall for me," said Jake, as if it happened to him all the time, which it probably did.

"Maybe I'm afraid you'll fall for me," he countered, not meaning it. He sat back on his heels and scanned the room. "If you're horny, I’m certain Ronnie would love to oblige you. And there's any number of others in here tonight who would as well."

"True." He gazed down at Harvey, wrapping the leash more tightly around his fist and reaching with his other hand to pet Harvey's head. "I've never _not_ fucked one of my subs, though, and that mouth of yours is driving me crazy." He combed his fingers through Harvey's hair, eyes narrowed in contemplation. "You're a shockingly beautiful man, you know. Especially with your hair soft and loose like this, without that crap you insist on using for work."

One thumb traced Harvey's cheekbone, and his voice dropped to a deep growl. "So sexy like this. I would so love to invoke the Clinton rule. One time only, to satisfy my curiosity. If it will set your mind at rest, we'll say you don't get off tonight. This would just be you serving your Dom. Don't think I haven't noted your distraction tonight. I was planning to get you upstairs and take you down with a paddle, for starters, but I think this would do the job just as well." Now his fingertips drifted up and down Harvey's throat, making him shiver. "I'm leaving it up to you, boy. So choose."

The hum of conversation and low throbbing music in the crowded room seemed to fade to nothing. Harvey's heart thudded away in his chest as he considered Jake's proposal. "Here?" he finally asked. "Now?" The atmosphere of the place made the idea possible and somehow less intimidating. Jake was right. He'd been having difficulty settling into the correct frame of mind. He would have accepted the paddle, but here was the opportunity to try something different, and he was honest enough with himself to admit that the thought of it excited him.

"Sure," Jake replied. “Right here and right now.”

"I get to use at least one hand. And this never happened."

Jake didn't answer right away, but finally gave a solemn nod. "Agreed. One time only, and no post-game analysis."

Satisfied with these terms, Harvey began to shuffle even closer, but Jake held up a finger. “Wait. Over there. Next to Ronnie.”

He realized that Jake intended to chain him to the Docking Station, under the bright track lights that lit up the area rather like a stage. He began to experience second thoughts, but crawled along beside Jake down the bar to the brass railing. Harvey expected the chain to be attached to his collar, but Jake surprised him and cuffed one wrist to the rail instead. Well, he had asked only for use of one hand.

He caught Ronnie’s eye. His latest … customer? … was holding a bottle of water to his mouth, letting him drink his fill. Harvey saw something sharp and disappointed in Ronnie’s eyes as he took in the situation. Harvey felt bad for the kid, but told himself that maybe this would get it through his head that Jake did not do romance, not even a little bit. He smiled tightly at Ronnie and winked, hoping he would get the message that Harvey meant him no harm.

Then he had no time for thoughts about Ronnie or anything else but Jake and his enormous cock. He’d unzipped himself and lowered the waistband of his briefs beneath his cock, and dragged over a stool from the bar, upon which he now half-sat and half-leaned, knees spread wide apart.

“I want you to take your time,” Jake instructed. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to come.” He gestured Harvey closer. “Get to it, boy.”

Jake had positioned himself so that Harvey was forced to turn his back to the railing, bringing his cuffed hand up behind his back. It was awkward, but not uncomfortable. He worried that he might not be able to sustain the position for as long as this would take, but he was determined to do his best.

He wrapped his free hand around the base of Jake’s cock, expecting that it wouldn’t be moving from there any time soon. Despite his boastful words earlier, he knew he didn’t stand a chance of deep-throating the entire length. He was good, but he wasn’t a circus performer. With one quick glance up into Jake’s dark gaze, he lowered his head and took the head of his cock between his lips, lapping at the slit with his tongue.   Perhaps it was the aggressively healthy nature of the man’s diet, but Harvey tasted something unique and earthy in the salty pearls of pre-come he collected on the tip of his tongue.

He moved lower, and licked up the length of the cock, using liberal amounts of spit to get Jake nice and slippery. He felt a large palm cup the back of his head, not forcing him, just resting there, and a muffled groan worked its way past the thickness blocking his lips. He pulled almost all the way off, and then went down again, as far as he was able, until the cock head nudged the back of his throat. He swirled his tongue everywhere it would reach, applying gentle suction, and began a shallow bob of his head, letting Jake’s cock bump again and again at the back of his throat.

He missed the use of his cuffed hand. He would have liked to give Jake’s balls some attention, but needed to keep one hand on the base of his cock, to hold him in place and prevent himself from choking on him. Without meaning to, he began to speed his movement, sucking and licking as he bent and straightened his neck, head going up and down. The sound of his own greedy, hungry, animal sounds spurred him to greater effort.

Strong fingers dug into his shoulder, massaging deeply. He opened his eyes and locked gazes with Jake.   The look on the other man’s face was equal parts tender and aroused. He ran a knuckle over Harvey’s cheek and thumbed the side of his stretched mouth. “You look good like this,” he murmured, an audible strain in his voice. “They certainly seem to think so.”

Harvey’s eyes darted to one side, and then the other. He fought down sudden panic as he took in the crowd that had gathered to watch his performance, pulling all the way off and licking his lips and struggling to catch his breath.

“Hey,” said Jake, stroking Harvey’s head, “it’s just you and me, okay? Ignore them all, if it helps. Or enjoy the attention. Your choice. For fuck’s sake, though, get that beautiful mouth back on me. Let’s finish this off.”

Harvey nodded, swallowing nervously. He lowered his head and shut his eyes. _Just Jake and him._ That helped. He concentrated on the feel of him in his mouth, his taste and scent. He shifted his hand and took more of him down his throat, and then a bit more. And more still. He was choking on him, growing lightheaded from lack of oxygen. Sharp pain pricked his skull as Jake yanked him forcibly off.

“I don’t want to have to carry you out of here over my shoulder, boy,” he chided, but Harvey didn’t miss the breathless voice and huge pupils. Jake was close.

Harvey gave his head a quick shake and applied himself to his task once more. He adjusted his grip, giving himself a manageable portion of cock to work with, and moved his head like a metronome, up and down, steady and unhurried. Up until now, Jake had held his hips relatively still. Now, though, he began to thrust with increasing force, meeting Harvey’s mouth as he went down. Harvey accommodated him, making his movements shallower, and changing the angle of his head to give Jake the optimal target. Enjoyable as it was to watch the expressions that chased one another across Jake’s face, Harvey shut his eyes again and let himself sink into to sensation. This wasn’t the usual wild, rocking chase to the finish line, not for him anyway. This was service and submission, letting Jake take what he needed with no thought of Harvey’s needs.

Which wasn’t to say he was unaffected by the act. He was rock hard, and all too aware of the showy bulge tenting his underpants. It was an effort to ignore that, but he forced himself to do just that. Jake had set the rules. Harvey would not be coming tonight, that was settled, and his understanding of this had the unexpected effect of bringing that much more focus to his actions. It seemed now as if his lips and tongue and throat and hand knew exactly what to do, and how to move, and when to press and stroke, and when to retreat, to drive Jake to greater and greater heights.

Finally, digging his fingers into Harvey’s hair to grip both sides of his head, Jake grunted, “I’m close. You have one minute to make me come. When I do, you’re going to take it all. If you miss any, I’ll have you lick it all up, even off the floor. Do it. Make me come now.”

Harvey went down as far as he could and swallowed over and over, letting his throat convulse and massage while he pumped his hand up and down the base. Jake’s head went back and he gave a rough shout, hips stuttering and jerking as he came in his throat. Harvey managed to get most of it down, but as Jake finally pulled out, he felt come dribble out the side of his mouth and down his chin.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake groaned, hands still clutching Harvey’s head. “That is a purely gorgeous sight right there.” He captured a bit of come on his thumb and let Harvey suck it off. “You’ve got serious skills, boy.” He let go of Harvey and leisurely tucked himself away and zipped up.

Harvey’s chest was heaving, but he managed a hoarse, “Thank you, sir.” At the edges of his awareness, he heard comments on his performance, all of it favorable, which made him feel stupidly proud of himself. Tomorrow, he might regret the public performance, but at that moment he felt as pleased with himself as he’d ever been.

Jake uncuffed him from the railing and then unclipped Ronnie as well, wrapping the younger man up in a hug, as if all too aware of how much he was in need of some attention from his Dom.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Jake. “I’m taking you both home for some proper pampering. A bath first, I think. I’m going to put you into that huge tub together and let you wash one another. Maybe I’ll even sketch you that way. After that, we’ll all crawl into bed together.” He had a hand on Harvey’s head, and one arm wrapped around Ronnie’s shoulders. “What a great night, eh boys? Sometimes pleasure, not pain, is the way to go. Look at me, with my two beautiful subs. How did I get so lucky?”

He ordered them both back to their hands and knees, and led them out on their leashes. Catcalls followed them, making Harvey blush. Jake only chuckled, seeming to enjoy the attention. Ronnie said nothing, which worried Harvey a little. Maybe he’d have a talk with him later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed a few words in my story “Step Two” to make it possible for Harvey and Jake to, er, engage. A little. Clinton Rule! (“I did not have sexual relations with that man!”) I’m not even sorry. Ha HA!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter has been so long in coming. Is anyone still reading this? Hello? Hellooooo????!! This delay is partly due to other WIP’s holding my attention, partly because I’m pretty sure the cheaty Harvey/Jake sex/not-sex in the last chapter maimed and sullied my writer’s soul until the end of time. But probably the main stumbling block to getting the current chapter done is more down to feeling ambivalent (and terrified) of writing parts of this chapter. Now, having buckled down and written it, I’m still not sure this was the way to go, but – too late! It’s posted now! No givebacks! No takebacks!
> 
> I intended to write a much longer chapter and finish the story, but the 4k I got down fought me hard, real hard, so I’m going to tentatively say that one chapter remains to be written. I still owe (some of) you a Jake/David story, which I plan to write (from Mike and/or Harvey’s POV, so it will still be technically Suits). I can also imagine the occasional one-shot in this ‘verse – after I finish all my WIP’s. God, that sounds like a conversation from my childhood playing in my head. (“How can you have any pudding if you won’t eat your meat?”)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for your patience. I’ll try to do better. (Chances are, I won’t succeed … )

“Case dismissed.” The judge tapped the gavel once and began gathering up her papers, preparatory to leaving the courtroom.

Gene Macon grinned hugely and clapped a hand on Harvey’s shoulder. “I gotta hand it to you, Specter. You really stepped it up on this one.”

Harvey grunted softly and stood up to leave, hiding his disdain for his client. “Happy now that you decided not to stick with Louis?”

“Aw, you’re not still sore about that, are you? Water under the bridge. Let’s go celebrate.”

“I’m afraid there’s somewhere I need to be.” This was true, except that it was only four o'clock, and he’d told Jake he’d be home around six. It was Friday, though, and he decided to take the win and call it a day. Ignoring Macon's half-hearted entreaties, he swept out of the room and rode the elevator down to street level to find Ray.

Inside the car, he texted the news of the satisfactory resolution of Macon’s lawsuit to Jessica, and phoned Donna to let her knew he wouldn't be returning to the office. Six months earlier, he would have also fired off a gloating text to Louis, to rub his nose in Harvey's proven superiority, but that sort of thing didn't seem as important these days.

He had more pleasant things to ponder on the drive home, specifically another night at _Payne_ with Jake and Ronnie. He never knew until they got there what Jake had planned for them. Lately, more often than not, Jake stayed in the background to instruct Harvey on technique and theory for dominating Ronnie. Although Harvey found this surprisingly enjoyable, he sometimes missed the peace that came from letting go and giving everything up to Jake. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone besides himself.

The scene he walked in on when he arrived at Jake's place froze him for a moment. Ronnie stood in the entryway, fully dressed and sobbing, practically nose to nose with Jake, except for the height difference. A large suitcase sat at his feet. If Harvey didn't know Jake so well by know, he might have missed the faint look of panic under his otherwise kind but bored expression.

"Please, sir," said Ronnie on a hiccup, "why not? What did I do wrong? I'll make myself useful. You know I'm a better cook than Harvey."

"You didn't do anything wrong. Oh, wait. You did arrive here packed for a long stay, without even discussing it with me first. So there is that. It's clear that you've mistaken this arrangement for a relationship, and I can't allow it to continue. Our contract is terminated."

Ronnie whirled partway around to point an accusing finger at Harvey. "It's because of him, isn't it? I was your sub first. It's not fair."

Feeling unjustly attacked, Harvey took a step back. "What the hell is going on here?"

Jake heaved a sigh. "Harvey, please wait in your room while I handle this."

Ronnie growled, sounding enraged. "I don't want to be 'handled.' I want to know what I did to deserve this."

Not in the mood for the boy's hysterics, Harvey made a quick escape into his room and shut the door. He could still hear Ronnie's high-pitched pleas, and Jake's low, rumbling replies. He undressed, lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache threatening, and massaged his forehead absently. After perhaps five minutes, the front door slammed and the apartment was quiet again.

Harvey felt bad for Ronnie. He was a nice kid, a beautiful boy and a fantastic fuck, but he'd made a huge tactical error by falling in love with someone like Jake. The door opened and Jake walked in, gaze quickly taking in Harvey's naked body.

"Sorry about that," he said, sounding exhausted. "I didn't expect you so soon. I thought I'd have him set straight and out of here before you showed up."

Harvey crossed his arms behind his head. "Thanks for trying to spare me." He bent one knee, bracing his foot on the bed, and feeling weirdly turned on all of a sudden. He spent most of his time around Jake naked, but usually he was busy with some task, or they were mid-scene. Now he felt like he was on display. Jake didn't bother hiding his perusal, appearing to appreciate what he saw.

"You okay?" asked Harvey.

"What? Sure. Of course." Jake sat on the bed next to Harvey's legs. "No. Not so much. It still hurts a little when they leave."

"Hurts? You?"

"You think I lack emotions?"

Harvey swallowed nervously at the dangerous gleam in Jake's eyes. "No. I didn't say that. I just assumed you flew up there at some lofty altitude, above all the messy feelings of those of us down here on the ground."

Jake gave a humorless grunt of laughter. "Where did you get that?"

"I've been accused of the same thing, from time to time." He nudged Jake with his foot. "I know it's a crock of shit."

Jake grasped Harvey's ankle, using his thumb to caress his ankle bone. "We're a lot alike."

His thumb rubbed and circled, causing Harvey to recognize that his ankle was an erogenous zone. "You enjoy submitting though, don't you?" He studied Harvey's face, and then nodded. "Yes. You love it. I never did. Sure, it was what I needed at the time, but man, did it chafe." He sighed. "Ronnie is pissed at you right now. He hates me, or believes he does, and he'll hold onto that for a long while. You, he'll forgive easily enough. He'd be a good sub for you."

Harvey wasn't so sure about that, but didn't say so out loud. "I'll keep that in mind for the future. For now, do you think you can settle again for just one sub?"

Jake nodded, and then caught Harvey off guard by leaning down to kiss his foot. "You'll do. For now."

"Until something better comes along?"

"Wouldn't you be the first to claim there is nothing better?"

Harvey frowned, not sure how to respond, and finally settling for, "Would I?"

"A vain son-of-a-bitch like yourself?"

"Excuse me?"

Jake smiled the particular smile which Harvey by now knew signaled trouble.   He pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it. "Vanity. Number one on the Harvey Specter list of seven deadly sins."

"Ah." He experienced a twinge of unease. "Step four."

"And five. And six. I've distilled your list of defects down to, as I said, seven primary ones, and ranked them by order of magnitude. You may disagree with my ranking. If you do, we can switch things around. Here. Take a look." He handed the list to Harvey.

Harvey read them off. _“Vain. Arrogant. Unforgiving. Uncompromising. Lacking empathy. Violent temper. Cold hearted.”_

"Some of them overlap,” Jake commented. “So. What do you think?"

Harvey stared down at the damning words. Distilled down, as Jake had put it, they did not paint a pretty picture. Much as he might like to, he couldn't dispute any of the defects, given that he'd come up with the list himself. "What do I think? I think this describes a person I probably wouldn't want to know."

"Bah. You've only listed your worst qualities. I could name a hundred positive things about you to more than counterbalance these, but this exercise is about dealing with the negatives." He paused as if waiting for Harvey to say something more. "Are you ready to begin?"

"I guess so. How … I mean, what do I have to do?"

Jake smiled and stood up. "First, fix us some dinner. Despite what Ronnie said, you are a good cook. After that, we’ll hit a meeting, and then head over to the club. Ronnie ruined my plan A for tonight, but we'll switch to plan B, and get started on steps five and six." His smile sharpened. "Be sure to hydrate."

 

***

 

Harvey's ass throbbed hotly. Jake had him restrained over a spanking bench in one of _Payne's_ private rooms. When asked why they couldn't have accomplished the same thing in Jake's play room at home, Jake had simply replied, "This isn't play. It isn't discipline, and it isn't punishment.”

“So what is it?”

“Something apart. Think of it like going to church.”

“As in, I fall asleep halfway through?”

“No. We’re here because a different location helps to set boundaries. For the next couple of hours, consider this a sacred space.

Harvey wasn't sure he entirely understood, but accepted Jake's judgment in the matter and got undressed, mentally preparing for a long, arduous session.

"Defect number three," said Jake now, selecting a riding crop from the implements provided by the club. "Let's have your confession. Do you remember, or should I remind you?"

Harvey remembered, although it took him a few moments to gather his thoughts enough to speak them out loud. "Number three. I confess that I am an unforgiving bastard, who holds onto slights, insults and wrongs, real or imagined."

He was discovering that admitting to his faults out loud hurt exponentially more than thinking them, or writing them down. The last part demanded by Jake was hardest to get out. "Please, sir. I humbly beg you to help me remove this defect."

Jake stepped up behind him and the crop whisked sharply against his sore ass. "That's one. We'll go to twenty. You count out the rest."

Harvey hated the crop almost as much as the cane, and was surprised that Jake hadn't saved it for farther down the list. They'd started with Jake's bare hand, followed by a leather paddle, both of which he may have enjoyed more than Jake intended.

Harvey relaxed as much as he could, and shouted out the count, having learned that volume helped him to tolerate the pain. In between hits, Jake's low voice reiterated the defect, forcing Harvey to remain focused on why they were doing this. Following Jake's earlier instructions, he meditated on his failings, recalling all of the times he could have forgiven Louis, but hadn't. Or Jessica, or Cameron, or Professor Gerard.

Or his mother.

Lily Specter’s distraught face filled his mind as the crop landed in a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ah! Fifteen. I'm sorry. Jesus, I'm so sorry."  

He hadn't meant to cry, had determined to remain strong throughout the scene, but the stark realization of the time he had lost with his mother – nearly ten years – suddenly hit him harder than anything Jake had dealt out tonight. He continued his count, but the numbers came out distorted by his slow, wrenching sobs.

"T-Twenty," he got out, and the strikes stopped.

"Let's take a break." Jake set the crop aside and brought Harvey water, which he drank greedily. "Something surfaced just then," Jake commented. "Will you tell me about it?" He rubbed Harvey's back in a soothing motion. He hadn't touched that area yet with any of his instruments, but Harvey didn't doubt they would get there before they were finished for the night.

For now, Jake's touch felt nice, and calmed him. Still, it took a few minutes to get command of himself. Jake waited him out in silence.

"My mom," Harvey murmured. "You know the story. She cheated. I never forgave her. We've barely spoken since then."

"Did your drinking play a role in that?"

Harvey frowned. "Her cheating played a role in my drinking, at least at the start of it all. The other way around … ?" He struggled to get his sluggish thoughts moving. "Maybe … I don't know. Maybe if I hadn't been self-medicating all those years I might have dealt with the rift sooner. Or dealt with it at all." He sniffed, and shrugged as much as his bonds allowed.

"Okay. Good. I'm not going to tell you what to do, but this will likely come up again when we get to step nine."

"Making amends."

"Yes."

"Can't wait," he lied.

"Let's move on to defect number four. I'll be using the strap for this one. Give me your confession."

And so it continued. After the strap came a heavy wooden paddle, and then a single tail, with which Jake striped Harvey's upper back. He knew from past experience that when he checked the mirror later, he'd find perfectly spaced marks laid across his flesh.

By now, after the weeks they had spent together, Harvey trusted Jake enough to fall apart in front of him. If anyone else had been present in that room, he would have been mortified by his reaction to all of the ugly emotions surfacing. He shouted, screamed, sobbed, pleaded, excoriated himself, and cursed until his throat was raw and his voice dwindled to a dry croak.

Defect six, his temper, had him railing at Jake, and Jessica and dozens of others who had earned his wrath over the years. The angry bite of the single tail seemed appropriate for this. After ten strikes, Jake once again allowed him water and stroked sweat-damp hair off of his forehead.

"We're nearly done," said Jake. "One defect to go. For this, I'll give you eight cuts with the cane."

Harvey groaned. He'd expected this, but dread filled him at the prospect. "Sir," he rasped, "I don't know if I can." His face remained wet with the tears he'd shed.

Jake pulled a chair closer and sat, putting his face on the same level as Harvey's. He looked as serious as Harvey had ever seen him. "If you need to use your safeword, I won't think any less of you." He wiped a thumb under one of Harvey's eyes, collecting his tears. "You're close to the finish line. You may not think you can endure any more, but I believe you can. I believe in you. I know this is hard." He leaned in and placed a kiss on Harvey's forehead. "Take a minute to think it over."

Jake stood up and stepped away. Harvey could see him at the edges of his vision, testing first one cane, and then another, bending it, and swishing it through the air, creating a sound that had Harvey's back tensing up. God, he hurt, and he was so tired. He wanted this to be over. What were they doing here anyway? What did this have to do with his sobriety?

He allowed his safeword to whisper through his mind. _Red. Red red red._ He was stubborn though. In fact, he thought he remembered writing that down, but Jake had not included stubbornness in the list of defects. Stubbornness could also be an asset, he supposed. It had served him well so far in his efforts to remain sober. Maybe that was partly what this was about. Seeing things through to the end, even when you thought you couldn’t continue for another second, let alone another minute, or hour, or day.

“Harvey?”

Jake stood at his side, caressing the length of the cane with his palm. Harvey took several huge gulps of air. “Green,” he husked. “I’m good to go. Green. Let’s do this.”

Jake nodded and ruffled Harvey’s hair. “Good boy.” He moved to stand behind him. “Defect number seven.”

Harvey sniffed once and closed his eyes. “I confess to being cold-hearted and concealing my true feelings from those I care about. I-I’ve been known to use other people’s emotions against them. It makes me a successful attorney, but a shitty person. I humbly beg for you to help me remove this defect … or maybe just temper it a little.”

Jake did not strike immediately. Perhaps he was as surprised by Harvey’s last minute amendment as Harvey was. He made no comment, and seconds later the cane sliced through the air to land on Harvey’s already reddened and tender ass. “Count for me, please,” murmured Jake.

“One.”

The cuts came fast and wicked after that, barely giving Harvey time in between to recover. He shouted out the numbers as best he could with his ruined voice. The cane hurt like a motherfucker, just as he’d known it would, but somewhere around the third cut it felt like a switch had been flipped, and his mind reached a clear, bright, empty plateau where he accepted the pain with something close to joy.

“Eight.”

It was over.

“Good job, Harvey. Relax for a minute, and then I'll let you down.”

Harvey continued to float, his ragged breathing sounding like a roar inside his head. He remained peripherally aware of Jake moving about the room, straightening up, putting things away, pulling back the covers on the bed.

While his mind retained its altitude and chilly clarity, his body hummed with fading sensation.   He flexed his back muscles and reawakened pain shot through him.

“Ah, shit.”

And just like that, just that quickly, he fell.

His plummet from the heights sent him crashing back into himself, and left him bewildered, dizzy and gasping for breath.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes clamped shut. “Shit. Holy fucking shit. Jake. I can’t –“

He couldn’t catch his breath. His chest felt too tight, as if squeezed in a vise. Although thoroughly chilled, sweat covered his body, and he started to shake. “Fuck. Get me off of here. I can’t … ” He began to struggle against the leather straps holding him down. “I’m not kidding. Red. Get me the fuck down.”

He could clearly hear the rising panic in his own voice, and Jake must have heard it too. He was beside him in an instant. “Whoa, whoa. It’s okay, brother. You’re okay. Let me help you.” With nimble fingers, he unbuckled the restraints and helped Harvey down from the spanking bench, putting one shoulder under his arm and practically carrying him over to the bed.

Harvey sat on the edge, rubbing a hand over his chest, his face clenched tight from the pain.

"Harvey? What are you feeling?"

"It hurts," he gasped.

Jake's muttered _fuck_ held an edge of alarm that sent a new burst of panic through Harvey. Jake hurried to the wall phone and spoke into it with quiet urgency. He returned to Harvey, crouching in front of him, hands resting on Harvey's thighs.

"You’re okay. Just try to relax. One of the members is a doctor. He'll be right here to take a look at you."

"I don't need – " Harvey had to pause to attempt another painful gasp of air.

"We're not taking any chances."

They waited in tense silence until a light knock came at the door.

"Come in," yelled Jake, and the door opened to reveal a slender young black man wearing leather shorts and carrying a doctor's bag. Leather cuffs dangled from one wrist.

"This is the patient?" He indicated Harvey.

"I'm not … " He shut his eyes as his chest seemed to spasm with pain.

The doctor pushed Jake out of the way and set his fingers on Harvey's neck at his pulse point.

"When did this start?"

Jake rose to his feet as he answered for Harvey. "Maybe a minute before I called down to the bar."

"What's your sub's name?"

"Harvey."

"Okay, Harvey. My name is Silas." While he spoke, he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Harvey's arm. "Tell me what happened." He positioned his stethoscope and began pumping the bulb. The cuff tightened around Harvey's arm.

"I was just … we'd just finished a scene. Everything seemed fine. Great, actually. Then I couldn't catch my breath. My chest feels like it’s going to crack open. I'm dizzy."

He waited while Silas deflated the cuff and listened to his pulse, tilting his head while he kept a close eye on the gauge. When he was finished he glanced first at Jake, before speaking to Harvey. "Your blood pressure is a little elevated.” He moved the stethoscope to Harvey’s chest. “You appear to be in overall good health." His eyes darted up and down Harvey’s body, and then back to his chest.

Harvey remembered that he was sitting there naked, but that was the least of his concerns. "And?" he asked.

"And I don't hear anything wrong with your heart." He removed the stethoscope, and took the blood pressure cuff from Harvey’s arm.

"It's not a heart attack?"

"No." Another nervous glance at Jake. "In my opinion, based on your symptoms, I’d say you're experiencing a panic attack."

Harvey stared at him in disbelief. "Excuse me? I don't think I heard you correctly." But the pain in his chest had already begun to recede, and his breathing had smoothed out. His indignation seemed to have driven away the worst of the symptoms.

Silas began packing his instruments away in his bag. "A panic attack. The symptoms can feel like a cardiac episode. Your … Jake was right to call me."

Harvey ran a hand through his hair. "So it's all in my head? I only imagined the pain in my chest?"

Hugging his bag to his chest, Silas glanced between Harvey and Jake, looking as if he wished he were anywhere else. "No. The pain is real, probably caused by the tightening of your chest muscles. If you're worried, I recommend you schedule an appointment with your doctor for a complete physical. For now, drink plenty of fluids and get some rest." He gave a nervous sounding cough. "Anyway. As you might have guessed, I was in the middle of something when you called. So … "

Jake set a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Thanks for getting here so quickly. Give George my apologies for the interruption."

"Yes, sir. Anytime."

Harvey dropped his head into his hands, feeling like a fool. "Jesus. I can't believe this."

"Believe what? That you're human?"

Harvey didn't have an answer for that. He took the bottle of water Jake handed him and drank deeply. His breathing had returned to normal, and his chest felt fine. "Maybe it was sub drop."

"Maybe, but you've never shown signs of that in the past. If what I just witnessed was related to sub drop, it's like nothing I've ever seen before. Like you fell off a building. You scared me me." He eyed Harvey closely. "How's the breathing?"

"Better. Good."

"Shit. You're still shaking. Here. Lie on your stomach. That’s it. I’m going to put this pillow under your chest to help you breathe.”

He got Harvey situated, and urged more water down his parched throat. Harvey continued to shake and shiver while Jake piled all three blankets on top of him. He left Harvey’s side for a half a minute to rummage through one of the built-in drawers. “They usually have … ah, here they are.” Back at Harvey’s side, he held a butter cookie to his mouth. “Eat a few of these while I call downstairs to have something more substantial delivered.”

“No,” croaked Harvey. He ignored the cookie and swigged some more water. “I’m not hungry. I’m just … I can’t explain it. Fuck. I feel like shit.”

Jake regarded him somberly. He sat next to Harvey’s hip and reached over to massage the back of his head with his fingertips. “Harvey, have you ever experienced panic attacks before?”

“What? No.” Except … hadn’t he, that night out with Mitchell Bleeker? The feeling had been similar, but he wasn’t prepared yet to admit it was a pattern. Jake’s touch helped to ground him, and he felt himself calming down and relaxing into the plush mattress. “Harvey Specter doesn’t do panic attacks."

“Hm. Perhaps you should consider what it means if Harvey Specter does, in fact, do panic attacks.” He kneaded and petted, strong fingers working through Harvey’s hair. “Do you think it makes you weak?”

Harvey didn't answer. The idea made him uneasy. The last thing he needed in his life was a new weakness to deal with.

Jake continued massaging him. After a few minutes, he asked, "Can you tell me what was going on in your head just before your not-a-panic-attack began?"  

“Nothing, to honest. I was kind of zoned out at that point. I think I moved, and it hurt, and then – _whoosh._ "

"Whoosh?"

"Yeah. Like you said. I fell off a building. I crashed. Hard."

Jake was quiet after that, but Harvey could almost hear him thinking.

Harvey yawned hugely. "M’sorry.” He'd begun to warm up, thanks to the pile of blankets. The shivering had stopped and now he was and growing sleepy. He yawned again. “Do you think you could rub some of that lotion on my ass?”

“You like that, huh?”

“Yeah.” He relaxed further as Jake pulled back the blankets and began to apply the soothing lotion. “So is that it? Am I cured now?”

Jake’s hand stopped, and then started rubbing again. “This isn’t about curing you.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Real life is hard. I doubt that comes as a surprise to you.”

Harvey grunted. “You suck at pep talks.” His mind drifted lazily while Jake continued his careful application. “If that was a panic attack, what does that mean?”

“Well, brother, I’d say it means you’ve got issues. I’m only an ignorant artist with good intentions and both an aptitude and a fondness for dealing out pain. I do what I can, but you might want to give serious thought to seeking professional help.”

“That’s … not comforting at all.”

“Be quiet. I’m attempting some proper aftercare here.”

Obediently, Harvey fell quiet for several minutes, beginning to feel as if he could easily let go and tip into sleep. “Jake?”

“Yes?”

He’d been about to ask if Jake would crawl into bed with him and hold him until he fell asleep. “Nothing.” At Jake’s arched eyebrow, he repeated. “Nothing. Seriously.”

Jake set the lotion aside and expelled a laugh that was half-sigh. “Scoot over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter ... (I fully expect some Jake and Lester hate for this one. Maybe some Harvey hate too. They're all a bunch of idiots. So ... let 'er rip.)

“Keep still.”

Harvey struggled to obey, but he’d been holding his position for what felt like hours. He wasn’t physically uncomfortable. Jake had been careful when he posed Harvey on the bed with one arm behind his head, and the other resting on his thigh. He’d instructed him to bend one leg at the knee and keep his gaze on the far wall. Once he had arranged him to his liking, he'd moved to the easel and paints he'd set up next to the bed and continued with the painting he'd begun a week earlier.

He’d sketched Harvey before, done quick studies over and over as Harvey worked around the apartment. This piece, he’d informed him, was potentially going up on his wall. Harvey wasn’t sure how he felt about that. At the moment, he mostly felt bored and fidgety and his nose itched. He scowled and twitched his nose.

“Harvey …”

“Do you think we could take a break?”

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that ten minutes ago.”

“Shush." Jake scowled and painted for several minutes longer. "Just … hold … still … one more …. There. Got it. You can move. That’s it for today.”

Harvey stretched and sat up. He moved to the edge of the bed, and watched as Jake begin to clean up. The scents of oil paint, linseed oil and paint thinner hung thickly in the air. This was their third session, and the longest by far. Before the first one, Harvey had questioned why they didn’t go to Jake’s studio if he wanted to paint Harvey, but he’d just shrugged off the question. Harvey would have been afraid of getting paint everywhere, but the drop cloth under the easel showed barely a splatter.

Except for the boredom, Harvey didn't mind posing. In fact, he enjoyed observing this side of Jake. When he painted, his movements were careful and precise, mixing colors, eyeing Harvey, dabbing or stroking paint onto the canvas. In some ways, Harvey felt as if he was seeing the real Jake for the first time, standing with his legs planted in front of his easel in only a pair of cut-offs and a sleeveless work shirt, expression serious and focused.

“How’s it going?” Harvey asked as Jake wiped his brush on a cloth.

“Come see for yourself.”

This was the first time Harvey had been invited to view the work in progress. Curious, he got up and went to stand at Jake’s shoulder. He was familiar with his style already, from the dozens of paintings and drawings hanging in his apartment. As far as art went, he could tell a Monet from a Picasso, but his expertise didn’t go much beyond that.

If pressed, he would describe Jake’s style as realistic, and heavy on contrast and stark shadows. The painting of Harvey was no different. At Harvey’s insistence, he’d nearly disguised his identity, employing a dark wedge of shadow that fell across his face, revealing only his mouth. Most of his body appeared only half finished thus far. The basic color and form was there, but shading and detail had not been added yet. Jake must have been concentrating on his mouth, because he’d captured it perfectly.

“What do you think?” asked Jake, sounding casual, but watching Harvey closely.

Harvey pretended to consider. “Well, it’s hard to go wrong with your subject matter. I’d say if the whole sculpting thing doesn’t work out, you could probably sell a few paintings here and there.”

“Bah,” muttered Jake. “The illiterati has spoken. Clean up for me. You remember how, I’m assuming, without destroying my good brushes. I’d like dinner in an hour. We’re going to the club tonight after. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

 

******

 

As was usual for a Saturday night, the main room of _Payne_ was crowded and noisy, humming with conversation and bass-heavy music. Unlike their usual routine, Jake had sought out one of the quieter corners tonight, allowing Harvey to sit on the floor, rather than kneel. A cushion was provided, and Harvey would have been perfectly comfortable, except they were directly under an air vent, blowing chilly air down on them. In only his briefs and Jake’s collar, he was cold enough that he was about to ask Jake if they could move. Just then, however, two woman approached their table, one leading the other by a leash attached to nipple clamps.

His gaze was drawn immediately to the leashed woman. She was beautiful, Harvey noted, with blond hair resting around her bare shoulder in soft waves. Her shiny blue mini-dress had been unzipped nearly to her belly button, revealing full breasts, with nipples currently flushed and erect from the ornate blue clamps.

“Harvey?”

Jake sounded amused, and Harvey realized he’d been staring. He thought about apologizing, but decided that his dumb animal brain was only functioning as it had been designed to do. “Yes, sir?”

“I’d like to introduce you to Evan Smith. That pretty girl you’ve been ogling is her sub, Paula.”

Harvey switched his attention to the second woman, discovering that she was every bit as lovely as her sub, although in a harder edged way. She was blonde, thin, tall, and dressed in a black wrap dress and four-inch black stilettos. Harvey gave her a nod that was part respectful bow. He didn’t say anything else, having remembered that he hadn’t been given permission to speak.

“Evan and I are going to go talk at the bar for a few minutes. She’s going to leave Paula here with you. You make speak freely with her. As she’ll explain to you, anything you discuss will be in confidence.”

Harvey watched as Evan removed Paula’s nipple clamps – causing the sub to mewl prettily – and then zipped her dress up so that it just covered her breasts. Evan gave Harvey an arch look, kissed the top of Paula’s head, and tucked her hand in Jake’s elbow as they crossed the room.

Paula sat down at the table, patting Jake’s vacated chair. “It’s okay,” she assured him when he hesitated. “It might be easier to talk if we’re on the same level.” She spoke with a British accent.

With a shrug, Harvey rose from his cushion and joined her at the table. “What exactly are we talking about?”

“Maybe this will explain.” Reaching down the front of her dress, she extracted a business card.

After Harvey had spent a few seconds imagining where the card might have been hidden, he glanced down at it and read, _Paula Agard, MD, Board Certified Psychiatrist._ “Uh,” he said, mind working furiously, feeling blindsided. “I think you’ve been misled.” He pushed the card back across the table at her.

Using her perfectly manicured index finger, the doctor slid the card back towards him. “No need to make this out to be more than it is. Your Dom is worried about you, and wanted to give you the opportunity to talk to a neutral party.”

“I don’t need a shrink – sorry, a psychiatrist.”

“Perhaps not. I’m not just a doctor, however. I’m also an experienced sub, which makes me uniquely qualified to understand what you might be feeling.” She paused, and when he remained silent, continued, “I'm told you’ve been experiencing panic attacks.”

He wanted to deny it, but his chest tightened, his pulse accelerated, and he felt about five seconds away from losing it right in front of her. He forced himself to breathe slowly, in and out, and to meet her eyes when he spoke. He'd been going to deny everything, but something in her eyes, the compassion and understanding evident in her expression, made him change his mind. “Yes, that’s true. Three times with Jake, and one other time he doesn’t know about.”

“I see. Do you have any ideas about what might be triggering them?”

“Are you billing by the hour for this conversation?”

“No. I’m speaking to you as a courtesy to Jake.”

“Did you and he used to … ?”

“Yes.”

He’d been expecting a more apologetic sort of response. Her stark and to the point confirmation took the wind out of his sails. Still, he wasn’t above trying to poke her a little. “Did you follow the usual course with him? That is to say, did you fall hopelessly in love, only to have him send you on your despondent little way?”

She gave a laugh which would have sounded like a snort on anyone less delicate and proper seeming. “Hardly. Jake is a dear man, but he’s not my type. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for him?”

“Nope. What about Evan? Is she your type?”

“She is exactly my type. And now you know more about me that you need to, so I’ll ask you again: do you have any guesses about what is triggering your panic attacks?”

Harvey knew he wasn’t required to talk to her. Part of him was angry at Jake for sharing his private business with her. He considered refusing out of spite, but what would that accomplish? Since the attack after scening with Jake, it had happened twice more, once at his studio while he was helping Jake clean up, and a third time in the middle of his morning discipline. That had been three days ago. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

She tilted her head to one side, seeming to look straight into him. “We both know that I can’t force you to talk to me. I’m a pretty good sounding board, though.” She waited several beats. “If you’d feel more comfortable in a formal setting, you can schedule some time with me during office hours. I would have to bill you for that.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m rather expensive.”

Harvey waved a hand, grimacing. “It’s not that. Believe me when I say I can afford you.” At her questioning look, he explained, “I’m an attorney.”

Now her eyebrows lifted. “Are you really? So is Evan. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize one another.”

He laughed. “There are a lot of attorneys in New York. In all likelihood, we’ll cross paths one day. Or not.” His shoulders sagged as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay. We can talk here. I’ll tell you about my panic attacks, and you can give me your professional opinion on cause and treatment. I highly doubt you’ll be seeing me in the future.”

“That’s fine, Harvey. Not every problem requires years of talk therapy. Thankfully, enough do to give me a more than decent living.”

He spent a few minutes describing to her the times he’d come close to falling apart, once with Mitchell Bleeker, three times with Jake. She listened intently, barely moving, barely breathing as far as he could tell. When he was done, he asked, “So? Is a butterfly net called for? Or is the world still safe with me in it?”

“Speaking for the rest of the world, I think we’ll survive you just fine.” Her dress creaked as she shifted in her seat, drawing his gaze once more to the soft, milk-white mounds spilling over the top. “I’m up here, Harvey. What do you think those four episodes have in common?”

His mouth twisted into an involuntary smile, and he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Sorry. You’re just really hot in that dress.”

“I’m wearing considerably more than you are, and yet I’ve managed not to ogle you non-stop.” Her words were sharp, but she was smiling as she spoke them.

“Oh, come on. You’ve ogled me at least a little, haven’t you?” He waited, and then frowned. “Haven’t you?”

“Classic deflection, with a heaping dose of regression thrown in. Answer the question, Harvey.”

“I forgot what it was.”

“No you didn’t. Stop wasting my time.”

“Are you sure you’re not a Domme? Okay, fine, I get it. Answer the question. Hm. I’m not sure there is a satisfactory answer. The first time it happened, I was with a client, and I had just taken my first drink after weeks of sobriety. I felt out of control, and like my world might implode if I didn’t get that control back.”

“What did you do?”

A fresh blast of cold air hit him from above, and he shivered, crossing his arms over his chest. “I ran straight to Jake’s place.” He went completely still as he remembered why. “I went to Jake’s place to give control of my life to him.”

“Interesting. You were out of control, and didn’t feel capable of wresting it back yourself, so you sought out someone stronger than you who could fill that need. Is that about right?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. But the other times … I don’t see how they fit that narrative.”

She appeared to think deeply for a minute or two. Harvey forced himself to look away from her luscious figure, staring across the room at the Docking Station. He thought he recognized the back of the head of the sub currently sucking on a member’s member. If it was Ronnie, he hoped he was happy, and had found someone to replace Jake.

“It seems to me,” Dr. Agard finally said, “that the other three instances, as you describe, were times when Jake controlled you.”

“Well, yes. That’s pretty much true any time we’re together.”

She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “The last thing I want to do is get between a Dom and his sub. I don’t know the particulars of your contract. You did sign a contract, yes?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “I’m speaking as a therapist here, not a sub or anything else. And keep in mind that we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“So stipulated.”

She gave a chuff of laughter. “Such a lawyer. My initial assessment is that this is all about control. You felt out of control, and went to Jake, to whom you handed over control. Now, after working and living with him for a length of time, you’re feeling more in control of your life. Have things improved for you professionally?”

“Enormously. When I started with Jake, I was fucking up badly. Now, I’ve regained all of the ground I lost, and I’m back on top.”

“Except you’re not.”

“Excuse me?”

“Harvey, I think you should consider – and discuss it with your Dom, by all means – that the time is right for you to take back control of your life.” She stared at him for long seconds. “If I had met you somewhere else, outside of here, in court, perhaps, I would have taken you for a Dom, not a sub. Is there any chance that you’re a switch?”

He scratched his chest reflectively. “That’s what Jake seems to think. We’ve done some training. Not so much since Ronnie left.”

“Ronnie?”

“Jake was training another sub. He grew too attached to Jake, and had to be cut loose.”

“I see. How did you feel when you were dominating Ronnie? Did you enjoy it? Did it feel right?”

He thought about it. A few weeks had gone by since Ronnie left, but he realized that he had missed the rush of working with him, of restraining him, and beating him, and fucking him senseless. “Yes. It felt exactly right. At times, it felt as if that was what I'd been born to do.”

“Maybe … just maybe … this is only a suggestion, and food for thought, but maybe your panic attacks are telling you that it’s time to move on from your role as Jake’s sub, and think about fully embracing your Dom side.”

He frowned back at her. “I don’t know. I doubt I would have made it this far without Jake. I owe him everything.” It made him uneasy to even consider going forward without his Dom.

“I understand. All I’m saying is think about it. And for God’s sake, talk about it with Jake. If you aren’t sure the time is right, leave it up to him. He’ll know. He’s been at this for a long time, and I’ve found his judgement to be impeccable.” She looked up, nodding toward the bar. Jake and Evan were making their way back to the table. Paula picked up her card and handed it to Harvey. “If the panic attacks continue, or get worse, please feel free to call me anytime. I’d be happy to talk to you some more, or to refer you to someone else if you don’t feel comfortable with me.”

Harvey didn’t hesitate this time. He took the card. There was nowhere on his person to put it, so he held it in his hands, turning it over and over, replaying her words in his mind. He wanted to reject them, but he was afraid she was right. Which made him … more afraid.

When Jake arrived at their table, Harvey slid back to the floor, onto his knees, and bent his neck. He felt Jake’s hand on the back of his head, stroking and petting. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension flow out of him, and telling himself that Dr. Agard was wrong. This is what he needed. There was nothing better than this.

 

******

 

Although Harvey held onto Dr. Agard's business card, he put her, and the conversation he'd had with her, firmly out of his mind. Work was busy, his Dom was a demanding son of a bitch, and Harvey spent most of his waking hours exhausted and always pushing himself to do more and be better. It had been over a week since his talk with the doctor. He hadn't experienced any panic attacks since then, and dared to hope that receiving her insights had been all that was required to solve the problem.

Jake hadn't pressed him for details about their discussion, but Harvey felt him watching him more closely, which put Harvey further on edge. He had never enjoyed being the object of anyone's concern. His response was to throw all of his energy when they were together into being the most perfect, well-behaved sub Jake had ever had.

Jake completed the painting of Harvey, and sent it out to be framed. Two months had passed since Harvey took his last drink with Mitchell Bleeker. He'd moved on from step seven to step eight, compiling a list of all the people he had harmed because of his drinking. Once he was finished, he would be required to make amends to the people on his list, if possible. He refused to dwell on how much he was dreading it, reminding himself that he'd placed himself in Jake's hands, and could rely on his strength to help him get through it if he had to.

His mother's name appeared in the middle of his list, as if its inclusion would carry less weight that way, when it should appear at the top, and not hidden among the college acquaintances, former girlfriends, former boyfriends, clients and opposing counsel who he had treated callously, or less than honorably over the years. Some names had been lost, or he'd never known them, obliterated by blackout quantities of scotch. There was nothing he could do now to those unknown victims, no way to make direct amends, but then he supposed the act of writing the list served its own purpose.

Plenty of the names he did remember would prove difficult enough. Whenever he imagined contacting his mother, especially, his mind skittered reflexively away and to other subjects. More than once, he was tempted to cross her off the list and forget about her. Wasn't he the wronged one in this? Or his father? The spiteful child in him wanted to hold onto his anger forever. How would that help him in the long run, though? He'd already admitted to both Jake and himself that his drinking traced back to the discovery of his mother's serial cheating.

He left her on the list, but tried to put her out of his mind.   He'd had years of practice avoiding thinking about her, so it should have been easy enough to continue doing so. As it turned out, it wasn't. Images of her popped into her head at random moments during the day, memories of his childhood, when they’d been happy, before everything turned to shit. Jake must have sensed that something was going on with him. It wouldn't be difficult to deduce, considering where Harvey was in the steps, and what Jake knew about his past.

Harvey thought he had it all handled. He was usually adept at compartmentalizing. He should have known that something which had caused stress his entire adult life would not simply disappear quietly.

Another panic attack caught him off guard on a Monday, and on Tuesday, Jake informed him that he’d been requested back in San Diego for a few days, to handle some difficulty with the installation of his work. “I would only be until the weekend. Are you sure you’ll be okay without me? I can put them off if I need to.”

“No. I swear, I’m fine. Go take care of things, and don’t worry about me.”

Jake stared at him, assessing, finally conceded. “I’ll call you when I get there. And I want you to promise to call me if any problems come up.”

Harvey nodded. He wouldn’t need him. No problems loomed on the horizon, of that he was certain. Plus, he was so busy at work, he probably wouldn’t even notice that Jake was gone. A month earlier, he might have been nervous about being left on his own. Now, he appreciated the separation, because it gave him space and privacy to begin making the series of difficult phone calls.

 

******

 

"I'm afraid it's club policy, Mr. Specter." The young woman at _Payne's_ front desk smiled apologetically. "I can't admit you without Mr. Salvatori here to sign you in."

Harvey ground his teeth together in frustration. He'd only stopped in on a whim, after his AA meeting let out and he'd felt at loose ends. With Jake still in San Diego until tomorrow morning, this would be his first Saturday night alone since he'd moved in with Jake. He understood the club rules, and their need to maintain control over who they let inside, but dreaded the prospect of facing Jake's empty apartment by himself. He’d completed his phone calls – except for the one which he’d prefer to put off forever – and there remained perhaps half a dozen people in town who he’d need to confront face to face in order to complete step nine.

"All right," he said, "I guess I'll see you next time." He turned too quickly and nearly collided with Lester Payne. "Shit. Excuse me, Mr. -- Les. I didn't see you there."

Payne's answering smile was distinctly melancholy, and Harvey recalled Jake's mention, perhaps three weeks earlier, of the passing of the man's partner, Joshua.

"I know it's somewhat belated, but I'm sorry for your loss, sir."

A weary nod. "Thank you, Harvey." He glanced around the reception area. "No Jake tonight?"

"He's out of town, and unfortunately for me, Denise here is a little too competent." He nodded toward the young woman. "I tried to get inside, but she wouldn't give me the time of day."

"That's not -- " she began to protest, and Payne waved her off.

"I know better than that, Harvey. Denise is an excellent employee." His eyes narrowed as he considered Harvey. "What were your plans, if you got in?"

Harvey shrugged. He hadn't thought it through, not consciously, but deep down he knew what he wanted. "Jake's been training me. I thought I might find a willing sub and see where the night goes."

"That's not how things work here, Harvey. You'd need permission from your Dom, to begin with. And with your lack of experience, either he or I would need to approve your choice of partner."

Harvey hesitated, and then decided he had nothing to lose by simply asking for what he wanted. "There is someone in particular. I've seen him here once or twice, on his own. He was Jake's sub for a while, and I've scened with him half a dozen times or more."

Payne's eyebrows lifted. "You're referring to Ronnie?" He appeared to consider this for half a minute, then shook his head. "I won't rule it out in the future, but I can't grant you access to any sub in my club until I know more about you. Additionally, you would need Jake's permission. "

Harvey knew he should admit that Jake had never explicitly granted that, but the lawyer in him insisted he win the argument, so he unwisely fudged the facts a little. "I have it. Not long ago, Jake told me that he approved of Ronnie acting as my sub."

"Did he?" Payne waited, as if expecting Harvey to either elaborate or backtrack. When he did neither, Payne frowned. "I suppose I've no reason to doubt you. Still, I'm going to say no. Our vetting process for new Doms is a bit more stringent than you seem to realize."

"But Jake …" He stopped himself. Adept at reading people, he could clearly see that Payne wasn't about to change his mind, so he tried another tactic. "Perhaps, if you'd be willing to supervise … ?"

One corner of Payne's mouth lifted in something that wasn't precisely a smile. "No, Harvey."

Harvey's shoulders sagged. It looked as if he was doomed to a long night alone after all. "Okay. I concede defeat. You have a great night."

He took a step to move past Payne and out the door, but the other man's hand latched onto his elbow and wouldn't let go. Payne's eyes narrowed, looking Harvey up and down. “If you’d like to talk some more, we can go to my office.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you.”

Payne sighed. “To tell you the truth, you’d be doing me a favor. I’m sick to death of my own thoughts.”

Harvey didn’t have to think about it for long. He nodded his assent and allowed himself to ushered past Denise, through the club, and into Payne’s private office. Payne shut the door, nearly cutting off the sounds from the main room. He sat beyond the desk and gestured toward one of the guest chairs on the other side. Harvey sat. He cleared his throat, feeling unexpectedly nervous all at once.

Payne cut directly to the chase, which Harvey should have expected. "Why did you come here, really? Don't lie to me, Harvey."

"Uh. I already told you. I came with hopes of finding a sub to scene with."

"Yes, but why tonight? Were you bored, what with Jake being gone?"

Harvey might have agreed with him, and let it go at that, but it wasn't the whole truth. He found himself saying, "It's a little more complicated than that. Jake has been there ever since I quit drinking. Quit drinking the second time, I should add. Anyway, when he was out of town once before, he left Ronnie with me. And tonight … let's just say there are a lot of hours between now and tomorrow. It’s been a rough week.” He didn’t intend to say anything more, but after another brief silence, he added, “Step nine.”

At Payne’s uncomprehending look, Harvey reminded himself that Payne hadn’t worked the steps like Harvey and Jake. “It involves making amends,” he clarified. “I’ve suffered through enough awkward conversations with barely remembered acquaintances to last me the rest of my life.”

“You’ve just described Joshua’s memorial service very nearly to a T.” Payne favored Harvey with a grim smile.

And what was there to say to that? Harvey nodded and fell silent.

“So you’re done with step nine?”

A pained laugh from Harvey. “Ah, no. That was the easy stuff. Now I get to speak to a number of people in person. And … well, I’m dreading more than one of those conversations.”

Payne leaned back in his chair, setting it rocking slightly. “Tell me about the one you dread the most.”

 _Donna,_ he was going to say, but that wasn’t the truth. She’d already opened the door with the incisively honest letter she’d given him. Cameron Dennis would be no walk in the park. Felix Gauptman, whose case he had lost when he’d failed to file in a timely manner with the Patent Office following a particularly wild weekend, might decide to sue him. Without thinking, he groaned aloud.

“Tough stuff?” asked Payne, compassion shining in his grey eyes.

“Oh yeah. Step nine sucks.” Harvey took several calming breaths and told the truth. “More than anyone else, I dread talking to my mother. We’ve been estranged for close to ten years now. There was a whole …” He waved his hand around in the air. “A whole thing when I was a kid. Never mind the details. She was guilty as hell, but I could have forgiven her and moved on.”

“Is that your intention now?”

Was it? “I don’t know. I’m afraid I might. Almost as much as I’m afraid I won’t be able to.” He gave a helpless shrug. “I can’t get clear in my mind about what I want to do. What I need to do. The wheels are spinning, but I’m not getting anywhere.”

Payne regarded him with pursed lips. “Well, you’ve convinced me.”

The flare of hope Harvey experience fizzled with Payne’s next words.

“You’ve convinced me that I was right not to let you near any of my subs right now. They may serve many purposes, but allowing an inexperienced Dom to relieve his life’s frustrations on their tender little bottoms is not one of them.”

Harvey took the censure with a tight grimace. “So noted.”

Payne’s finger-drumming went on for another half-minute. “I will, however, give you another option. Let me bend you over my spanking bench – ” He nodded toward the piece of equipment in question, on the other side of the room. “And we’ll see if I can’t take you down further than even Jake has gotten you.”

Harvey’s stomach dropped – in a pleasurable way – as he considered Payne’s offer. Ever since he’d met him, he’d been curious what it would be like to scene with his Dom’s Dom. Now it seemed he would be given that opportunity. Deciding he’d be a fool to pass it up, he slid from the chair and onto his knees, lowering his head. “Please, sir,” he murmured.

“It would be my pleasure. Just one thing. You’ll still need permission from Jake.”

Harvey groaned inwardly, but kept his features impassive. He pulled out his phone, unlocked it and placed the call. He heard it ring three times and then go to voicemail. Pretending to be speaking directly to Jake, he said, "Jake. I'm here at _Payne_ with Les. I'm told I need to ask your permission to scene with him. Uh huh. That's what I thought. Okay. Thanks." He hung up, and felt his heart pounding away furiously in his chest at his blatant dishonesty. He was filled with a sort of giddy mix of elation and dread at the knowledge that he would undoubtedly pay dearly for the lie when Jake returned.

Payne didn’t react immediately. He stared down at Harvey as if expecting something more. Eventually, he sighed and nodded. “Undress,” he instructed. He removed his own jacket and tie, hanging them on the back of his chair, before rolling up his sleeves.

Harvey took his time stripping out of his clothes. Normally, he would have been pleased with the win, but Payne had been so kind and accommodating that his guilt ratcheted up another notch. Knowing he should admit his deception and extricate himself as gracefully as possible, still his hands and fingers continued to move until he was naked, and his clothes sat in a neatly folded pile on his vacated chair.

“Any soft or hard limits of which I should be aware?”

Harvey shook his head. “If this is straight impact play, then no.”

“What about penetration?”

“Ah.” Would Jake be any angrier if Harvey allowed that from Payne? He wouldn’t be jealous, because … just, no. They didn’t have the kind of relationship. Harvey decided he wasn’t opposed. “That would be green, at your choice and discretion of course.”

“I see.” Something dark passed fleetingly over Payne’s face and then vanished. “In the interests of honesty, you should know that I haven’t been intimate with anyone since Joshua … since he got sick.” He smiled sourly. “As you’re most likely aware, you are a highly fuckable man. If we … go there … it will be as much for me as for you. Perhaps more so. Does that change your answer?”

“No. Of course not.” He smiled reluctantly. “I’d say it was an honor, but that doesn’t sound right.”

“I’ve heard worse. In any case, I doubt I’ll last long, considering. I’ll make it worth your while, though. You’ll be allowed to come, once I have. Agreed?”

“Definitely, sir.”

Nodding, expression solemn, Payne walked over to the wall displaying his instruments. “Now, what will it be? Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He reached for a riding crop, and Harvey groaned out loud. “No?”

“Sorry, sir. But, no, it’s not my favorite. Your choice, though, obviously.”

“I’m tempted to show you just how exquisite the crop can be. But you tell me. What’s your preference?”

Harvey considered his choices. Jake more often than not used either the strap or paddle on him. He assumed that Payne was an expert with everything on his wall. Not that Jake wasn’t skilled, but Harvey expected that the bar would be raised with Payne. Everything about tonight would be different than it was with Jake. He eyed the riding crop that Payne still held, and then surprised them both by declaring, “The crop. Please, sir. I’d like the crop tonight.”

“Very well, boy. Here is what I propose. First I’ll plug you, and then I’ll warm you up with my suede flogger. After that, the crop. And then I’ll fuck that fine ass of yours. Do you agree to all of that?”

Harvey’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head in anticipation of the next hour or so. “Oh, yes sir. So much.”

“Then get up on the bench, please.”

Before Harvey could comply, his phone trilled inside his suit pocket. They both turned to stare at the chair. “Shit. Sorry. I forgot to turn it off.” He dug through his clothes until he found his phone. The ringing had stopped by then, but the display indicated that he’d missed a call from Jake. Ignoring the painful stab of guilt in his gut, he turned off his phone and dropped it on top of his clothes.

“Anything pressing?” asked Payne.

“No. It can keep.”

Payne hummed thoughtfully, as if he didn’t believe him. But, “All right,” he said. Maybe he’d seen something in Harvey’s expression, some hesitation, because he added, voice low and soothing, “It’s just the two of us in here. No one is going to bother us. Take a few breaths. Let the rest of the world go for now, and get on the bench.”

Harvey climbed up onto Payne’s spanking bench, curling over the top of it and taking a moment to appreciate the comfortable padding.

“Shall I restrain you?” asked Payne.

Surprised at the question, Harvey looked over his shoulder at him. “Isn’t that up to you, sir?”

“It’s our first time together. I’d be a fool not to satisfy myself as to your preferences. For some subs, being restrained is a trigger. Others require it. And still others are completely neutral on the issue. What about you, boy? Where do you fall?”

“Oh. I guess … I’d like it.”

“That’s fine.” It was a matter of only a few seconds to strap Harvey in at wrists and ankles.

He moved restlessly, testing the bonds, and found them secure but not uncomfortable.

“Good?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me your safe word.”

“Red. Yellow to pause.”

“Thank you. I’d like to place a blindfold over your eyes. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, sir.” Payne slid the lightweight material into place, and Harvey breathed out slowly, feeling the familiar peace settle over him. He could hear Payne moving around behind him.

“You’re going to feel my fingers now.”

One hand touched his bottom, separating the cheeks, and he felt wet pressure at his entrance. Payne took his time opening him up, probing carefully before pumping his fingers in and out.

“Now the butt plug,” murmured Payne. “A bit bigger than my fingers, but nothing you can’t handle.”

With every soft, measured word of instruction or commentary, Harvey felt himself falling deeper and deeper under Payne’s spell. He gave a low grunt when the plug pushed into him, forcing himself to relax until his body accepted it.

“That’s fine. Such a good boy. You look positively sinful like that. What’s your color?”

“Green, sir.”

“All right, I want you to relax and take everything I give you.”

Seconds later, the flogger thudded against his bottom. Payne worked it down the back of his thighs, up his back to his shoulders, and back to his bottom, where he set up a steady rhythm for long minutes.

This was like his scenes with Jake, but different somehow. Perhaps because he didn’t know Payne as well, and he hadn’t actually gotten Jake’s permission to do this, the act of submitting to him contained a _wrongness_ that made Harvey hot with both shame and gut-deep lust. This felt almost like one of his bar hookups, but not. He might trust Lester Payne, but the reality was that he’d given control over his body to an almost stranger. Anything could happen, but as the flogging went on and on, he cared less and less about consequences, and just sank into the sensation, moaning his enjoyment, and occasionally crying out when the suede tails hit a particularly sensitive spot.

When the thudding blows halted, he continued moaning for several seconds before subsiding into silence.

“Let’s take a break,” murmured Payne. “Would you like some water?”

Harvey licked his lips. “Yeah. Yes, please.”

The lip of a bottle touched his lower lip, and he lifted his head, gulping down cool water. “Thank you, sir.”

“What’s your color?”

“All green, sir.”

“You know what comes next. Last chance to change your mind.”

“No. I want it, sir.”

“Ah, Harvey. Such a good little sub for me.” He stroked a hand down Harvey’s back to his bottom, ignoring his hiss of pain.

Then the crop struck his bottom, flicking him with a wicked bite. Harvey cried out softly. The crop struck again. The hits fell quickly after that, moving around his bottom for the most part, but sometimes landing on his shoulders, or upper thighs, and in two lightning strikes, on the soles of his feet, making him howl.

After that, Payne stuck to the meat of his ass cheeks, targeting first one and then the other, heating his flesh, causing the pain to spiral up and up until some mooring inside of Harvey broke free, and he was floating. Flying. He could hear himself babbling his thanks and other sentiments he would not remember later, until he was hoarse and nearly incoherent.

He came back to himself a little when the blows stopped.

“Are you with me? Harvey?”

“Yessirrr … green.”

“That’s fine. You did so well for me. We’re done with that now.”

Seconds later, Harvey heard a zipper lowering behind him, and he shivered in anticipation.

“Here’s my hand again.”

The butt plug was worked loose. Harvey hummed, sleepy and high and happy, and peripherally aware of Payne opening a condom wrapper and preparing himself. And then he was pushing inside, sliding right in. Harvey felt wonderful. He let out a long sigh of contentment, savoring the momentary quiet in his mind.

Behind him, he heard a low sound of distress from Payne. “Joshua,” he breathed, and held still, buried all the way inside of Harvey.

Harvey’s bubble of contentment burst at the mention of Payne’s recently dead partner. He had only a moment to wonder what he should do, however, when Payne began moving, sliding out, and back in, slow and steady. His fingers gripped Harvey’s hips, digging in hard.

“You feel so good,” Payne whispered.

Was he aware that is was Harvey beneath him?

Almost as if Payne had heard his thoughts, he said, more strongly, “You feel good, Harvey. So good for me.” And then as an afterthought, “Still green?”

He hadn’t been sure half a minute ago, but with this confirmation that Payne had not slipped into some sort of weird fugue state, there was only one answer he could give, “Yes, sir.”

“Shall I fuck you harder?”

“God, yes.” A full body shiver rippled through him. Payne’s hips began to snap forward and back with increasing force as he made good on his words and pumped in and out of Harvey so hard the bench began to shake and vibrate. Harvey’s fingers curled around the edges of the arm supports as Payne grasped his thighs. He pictured the scene in his mind, Payne standing behind him, going up on the balls of his feet each time he rammed himself home. Then he leaned over Harvey’s back and his hips sped up, pistoning in and out in shorter stabs as his dress shirt lightly abraded Harvey’s damp back.

“Ah,” cried Payne, freezing deep inside of Harvey, fingers tightening around his thighs. “Ah, yes.” He shuddered, over and over before collapsing on top of Harvey. He was still for only a moment, and then lifted up and pulled out. Harvey listened to what he assumed were the sounds of him putting himself back to rights, zipping up, disposing of the condom. “Did you come, Harvey?” he finally asked.

“No, sir.” He was rock hard and ready. One or two strokes would probably be enough to send him over the edge.

“I must be losing my touch. Let’s try this. If I can’t get you off in five minutes, I’ll use my hand.”

Harvey was still wondering what Payne meant when felt his cheeks parted, and the damp slide of a tongue at his entrance. A hungry, disbelieving groan worked its way out of his chest. Payne’s tongue muscled inside of him and a shiver rippled through him. “God, sir. That’s …” Words failed him. Payne’s tongue fucked in and out of him with delicate accuracy, nudging his prostate and lighting his nerves on fire. It did not require five minutes. When the tongue miraculously sped up, Harvey’s spine melted and he screamed.

Convulsions shook him. Underneath the blindfold, his vision went white. Hot pleasure scoured every inch of his insides. Somewhere behind them, someone applauded slowly.   Payne lifted his face from Harvey’s bottom, leaving one hand resting on his lower back.

“Jake,” said Payne, voice dry and unsurprised. “You got here sooner than I thought you would.”

 _Oh shit,_ thought Harvey. _Oh, fuck me._ Except Payne had already taken care of that.

With an audience of one.

“Not soon enough, apparently. Imagine my surprise to walk in and find you so freely availing yourself of my sub.”

Judging by the sound of his voice, he had moved further into the room and stood close to Payne. Harvey wished someone would remove his blindfold, but judged that silence was his best option at the moment, while the two Doms said whatever they needed to say to one another.

“I was given to understand,” countered Payne, “that he had your permission.”

Renewed shame filled Harvey. He could feel his heartbeat accelerating, and his breaths sticking in his throat.

“Sadly, you’ve been misled. Harvey, will you tell him, or should I?”

Harvey hadn’t felt this caught out since the time he’d been discovered in the act of shredding Scottie’s Constitutional Law notes at Harvard. “I … I may have overstated the actual er, actuality of his approval.” He jerked involuntarily at his restraints, which, predictably, did not budge.

“I see.” A brief, weighted silence. “That is disappointing to hear.” And Payne did sound disappointed, but Harvey also detected a faint thread of amusement underneath the disappointment.

Harvey twitched again. His unease began to gather and coalesce into what he by now recognized as an impending panic attack. “I’d like to get down, please.” His voice remained surprisingly steady. Neither Dom reacted, or moved to help him.

Jake sighed audibly and spoke again. “I thought I’d trained him better than this.”

“You did,” said Harvey. “I’m sorry. I apologize. I’ll accept your punishment, but I need down. Could one of you please – ”

Payne spoke over him, addressing Jake. “And this is precisely why I disagree with both your philosophy and methods. First the Ronnie debacle, and now this.”

“What are you complaining about, Les? You got your rocks off. You got to fuck that gorgeous ass, which is more than I’ve been allowed to do. Did you know he was lying?”

Harvey jerked at his restraints again, and was still. How could they not hear his labored breaths? They were right next to him.

“I suspected it, and knowing you had caught an earlier flight home, I knew you’d rush right over here. I’ll admit, I was highly entertained by Harvey’s attempts at deception. I beat him thoroughly before I fucked him, so you might consider going easy on your punishment.”

“Ah, yes. You do love your mind games. But I’ll punish him as I see fit.”

They continued to snipe back and forth, but to Harvey, their words were only an angry buzzing, reaching him through his rising distress. “Red,” he stated into the darkness. “Red.” He waited, and panic turned to bright hot anger. “Red! Get me the fuck down. Goddamn it, Jake. Fucking red!”

His shouts seemed to reverberate in the sudden silence.

“Shit,” he heard Jake mutter, and then two sets of hands worked to free him. His blindfold slipped away. With help from Jake and Payne, he got to his feet, and then stumbled backwards, away from their grasping hands. “Don’t,” he bit out. His chest had gone tight, and he couldn’t catch his breath.

 _No,_ his mind protested. _Not this. Not now._ He heard someone speak his name, but couldn't manage a response. On shaky legs, he lurched backwards to lean against the first thing he encountered, which turned out to be a bondage table. He rested his weight on the table and curled his fingers around the edge, while listening to the strange, wheezing noises he was making. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

He was dimly aware of Jake approaching him and setting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “Everything is going to be okay.”

After gulping down the water that was offered to him, his mind cleared enough that he noticed Payne had left the office, leaving him alone with Jake. He could breathe again. The pain in his chest had receded. At Jake’s wordless coaxing, he rested his head against the big man’s chest and closed his eyes.

“I am sorry,” he mumbled.

“I know.” A short silence, and then, “I just want to know why.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Jake’s chest vibrated as he laughed quietly. “Paging Dr. Agard?”

“No.” Harvey lifted his head and looked upwards, meeting Jake’s concerned gaze. “No. I know what I have to do. You might not like it, but we need to talk.”

Jake stroked Harvey’s head and rubbed a thumb over his lower lip. “We’ll talk tomorrow. You won’t avoid punishment for tonight, but it will have to wait. And if this little episode helped you to figure things out, perhaps it was for the best.” He frowned down at Harvey. “Let’s go home. I came straight from the airport, after I listened to your voice mail. I’m exhausted.” He rubbed Harvey’s head affectionately. “You little shit. Get dressed.”

 

******

 

Punishment came the following morning directly following Harvey’s morning discipline. Jake gave him eight cuts with the cane, which Harvey thought was excessive. He didn’t utter a word of complaint, and was secretly glad that his Dom was not the jealous sort.

After breakfast, they sat together in the living room – or Jake sat, and Harvey knelt on the floor to avoid contact with his still sore and throbbing bottom. He’d spent long hours last night mulling over this conversation, and what he might say. He’d made up his mind, and came straight to the point.

“I can’t be your sub anymore.”

Jake took with news with stoicism, one slow blink being the only thing which gave away his surprise. “Tell me more,” he said coolly.

Harvey grimaced, concentrating on the zig-zag pattern of the throw rug under his knees. “It’s these fucking panic attacks. I think … well, it was Dr. Agard’s theory, actually, but I think she’s right. I need control of my life back. I know our contract doesn’t expire for a few more months, but I can’t keep doing this.”

“And yet, you went to Les last night and asked for the exact same thing I’ve been giving you.”

Harvey chanced a look up at Jake’s face, winced at his thunderous expression, and lowered his gaze once more. “Did he tell you why I went to the club in the first place? I was looking for Ronnie. Or any sub, really, but I figured Ronnie was my best bet.”

A sigh from Jake. “You know full well that I support you becoming a Dom. What do you think all of that training was for? There is a path, though, procedures and protocols. Unless you intend to strike out on your own?”

“Well, no. I was planning on looking into membership at _Payne._ ”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m still confused about the timing.”

Harvey’s mouth twisted as he struggled with an explanation. “You’ve said you believe I’m a switch. That’s fine. I’ll take your word for it. In my life, though … in my chosen profession, I need to operate from a position of strength. And yes, you’ve tried to get it through my thick skull that a sub is not at all powerless. Maybe this works from some type A personalities. For me, submitting to you served its purpose at a time when I needed that in my life. Now? I have this … I don’t know … cognitive dissonance, between my public persona and the person I agreed to be for you when I signed our contract. Dr. Agard suggested that might be at the root of my panic attacks, and I’m inclined to agree.”

“Hm. I suppose I can’t argue with you when I’m the one who had the bright idea of you talking to her.” He was quiet for several minutes. Harvey waited him out, giving him the opportunity to process what Harvey requested. “Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s do this. Stay with me for the remainder of our contracted time as my roommate. I’ll remain as your AA sponsor.”

“Good.” Harvey hadn’t given that aspect of their relationship much thought, and was relieved to hear that Jake would still be helping him with his sobriety.

“You’re nearing the end of the twelve steps. As for the rest of it, I’m happy to become your mentor, and to continue training you to become a Dom. Is that what you want?”

Harvey smiled up at him. “Yes, sir. I’d like that.”

“But,” continued Jake, “if and when it becomes necessary, I’m still here, ready and willing to beat your ass, or do whatever else it takes to get your mind right.”

“At my sole discretion?”

“Of course.” His serious expression took on a hint of mischief. “You know, Harvey, if we’re rewriting our contract, maybe we should put something in there about penetration, as in my dick in your – ”

“Veto.”

“Seriously? You’d let Les hold that over me? That he got to plow your ass, and I never did?”

“He doesn’t seem the type to gloat. But yes, seriously. That one time at the club notwithstanding – ”

Jake grinned, eyes shining with humor. “I treasure that memory, Harvey. Don’t ruin it for me.”

“Nevertheless. That one blow job notwithstanding, I’ve sort of come to think of you as a brother.”

“You never got kinky with your brother?”

“Ew. No. _Jesus_. I was attempting to have a moment with you, but you spoiled it.”

“Ah, what the hell. I never had a brother. I’d be honored. Now get up off of your knees. Since your houseboy days are over, I’m going to let you buy me lunch.”

When Harvey started to rise, Jake placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. “Your sobriety and your recovery is an ongoing process. You understand that, right?”

Harvey nodded.

“Here’s something I want you to think about, not act on, just keep in the back of your mind for now. After you’ve gotten some time sober under your belt, keep your eyes open and wait for the right moment, and the right person, to pay it forward. Do for someone else what I’ve done for you.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll try to keep it in mind.” He said the words, but he didn’t mean them. He couldn’t see himself taking on that sort of responsibility. Other people were complications, and he never wanted someone upsetting his life, complicating it in the way he’d complicated Jake’s.

 

******

 

Harvey had seriously considered making his final amends over the phone. Jake had convinced him that he should take a long weekend and fly out to Seattle to speak to his mother face to face. He’d gotten both her street address and email address from Marcus, and had sent her a terse email just before he left for the airport, not saying much, just letting her knew he was on his way. Part of him hoped she refused to see him, or was out of town this weekend.

When the taxi pulled up to the small blue house with the neatly trimmed lawn in a north Seattle neighborhood, he saw a shadowy figure behind the blinds in the front room, watching the street. He paid the driver, got out, and walked to the front door. He raised his hand to knock, but the door opened first.

Lily Specter – or Nordquist now, he reminded himself – gazed back at him through the closed screen door. Even distorted by the thin barrier between them, he could clearly see that she had aged, and yet was still recognizable as the woman who had raised him.

“Harvey,” she said without inflection.

“Mom.” He hesitated, gathered his courage, and cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

The screen door creaked open, and he stepped forward, into her open arms. Surprise made him hesitate again, but only for an instant. His arms wrapped around her slender form and held on tight.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

He both heard and felt her breathless laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated as tears pricked his eyes. “I was an ass, and ten years is too long a time – ”

“Hush.” She pulled away carefully. “I made lunch. Dale is gone fishing this weekend. We can talk for as long as you want.”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, voice husky, “that would be good.”

 

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that a weird place to end? I mean, considering the subject matter of the rest of the story. But … no matter. It’s finished! I finally managed to drive a stake through the heart of this story that didn’t want to die. I’m free! Free, I tell you! Well, except for that Jake/David story I promised. And all of the other stories I’ve committed to. Good lord, how did it come to this?
> 
> This chapter marks a milestone of sorts. The other day, I was in one of those “OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?” sort of moods (sort of like I am right now), and got curious about just, exactly, how much fanfiction I had vomited out into the world over the course of the last six years. (My first post, on another site, for another fandom, later reposted to AO3, was in early 2010.)
> 
> First, I tried adding it all up on my calculator, but then I stumbled across the “Statistics” option on my AO3 dash, and had a look – this way, and that way, sliced and diced by year, and by fandom and the top five by hits and comments and all the other silly nonsense. After that stopped being fun, I had to face the unmistakable truth, which is that with this chapter, I have now written OVER A MILLION WORDS of fanfiction. Er, huzzah? (It probably happened sooner, without me even being aware, because of the fics posted only to Tumblr). For Suits alone, the total is 797k. By the time I finish all the WIP’s I’ve got going, that may top a million words. 
> 
> And almost more shockingly (to me), for each individual, succeeding year I looked at, the number of words grew, and grew, and GREW. My god, you all must be so sick of seeing my stories. How can you not be? Believe me, I am not fishing for compliments, I’m just utterly flummoxed and trying to figure out how I feel about this new information.
> 
> I’m definitely going to finish my three WIP’s. I ain’t no quitter. And if this End of the World Bang thing doesn’t go tits up, I’ll have another story to add to the list. After that … I don’t know. How much wood can a woodchuck chuck, and all that … I'm starting to feel all chucked out. Or up. Or whatever.
> 
> Ack. Sorry for the authorly spew. I’m a spewer.
> 
> ANYway, for those of you who read this story all the way through, and bothered to leave kudos, or a comment – good, bad or indifferent – thank you from the bottom of my heart. And if you just plain old read it, I do hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
